In Some Ways A Family
by Lady of Lorule
Summary: "There was an idea, called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable children, to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together to protect themselves, and the world, from those who would do them harm." Set in a world where the Avengers are only children. AU
1. Chapter 1

"They're arguing again, Pep," he said, the smallest bit of desperation in his voice. Only those who knew him very well would be able to hear it. Which meant that meant only she could.

"We'll be going back to school soon, Tony. Then you won't have to worry about that anymore," Pepper said, just a face on his monitor.

She was already at their boarding school, having stayed the summer. That was why he had set up a private chat link, so they wouldn't be completely alone while he returned home to his family's mansion in Los Angeles. They were each other's only real friends. Everyone else were only nice to them was because of the influence and the money that their families held.

"Yes, I will. It never ends," he said, sounding resigned. She was the only one he'd shown the scars on his back. She was the one who had bought him makeup to cover his bruises, and to comfort him when he broke down. Or the one he vented to when he heard his parents fighting, like tonight.

"Maybe, but we'll see each other again. That has to be something," she said, wanting to cheer him up, even if sometimes she felt like was fumbling through the darkness when it came to helping him. She didn't get along with her parents either, but her family was nowhere near as dysfunctional as Tony's family was.

"Oh, honey, that's everything." He heard footsteps in the hallway and sighed. "I have to go. Jarvis is going to come check on me, and Howard technically grounded me, so I'm not supposed to talk to you as punishment."

"Okay. Bye, Tony. Call me soon."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, snapping a salute. She giggled, making him grin. "Bye, Pepper."

He shut down the video chat and turned off the screen. Just in time for Jarvis, Howard's butler and Tony's unofficial nanny, to open the door. All he saw was Tony working on his robot, Dum-E. Jarvis knew his young master well enough to guess he had been up to something mere moments before his arrival, but with the fresh bruise blossoming on the boy's cheekbone, he decided not to say anything. He stayed in the doorway as he delivered the message Howard had sent him with.

"Your father wanted me to tell you that he and your mother will be gone for three days," Jarvis said.

Tony twisted his screwdriver with a little unnecessary force. For being thirteen, he was unusually strong and large from working in his garage and labs. He didn't bother look up from his robot.

"Great. I'm to stay here and wait patiently for their return like a good boy, right?" he asked, adding a bitter laugh on to the end. "You can go, J. You're going with them. Leaving me all alone. Again."

"We'll return soon, sir," the butler said, wanting to comfort the boy who was like a son to him, but knowing he couldn't. Jarvis had to keep his distance from Tony, as Howard believed his son was already too coddled.

Tony didn't reply. Jarvis began leaving the room, but not without saying, "Goodnight, sir."

Tony worked on his robot for a bit longer. He heard the car pull away some time later. No doubt Jarvis was driving his parents to some fancy party or meeting or whatever crap they attended all the time. He was more familiar with the mansion being empty than full. When it got late at night, and he could hear Pepper mentally chastising him for staying up, he finally slipped into his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

A small noise woke him up. Tony's room was still dark, but he knew he wasn't alone. His brain struggled to come up with a plan, but not in time. A foul-smelling rag was pressed roughly over his nose and mouth. He tried to struggle, to get out of bed, but someone was holding him down. A person in a black ski mask was holding the cloth to his mouth, causing his eyes to grow heavy and his breathing to become labored. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath, and there was no one in the whole mansion who could come even if he had been able to scream. His eyes closed.

* * *

Tony jolted awake when a musty bag was yanked off his face. In the minute it took for his eyes to focus, he felt dried blood coating his upper lip, and bruises on his wrist forming from the rope binding his hands. He was tied to a chair, by the hands, middle, and ankles. Slowly, the room came into focus. Someone was holding him by his hair, and there were more people surrounding him on either side with guns. One man was shining a spotlight directly at him, disorientating him. Another man was sitting in front of him, filming him. The man holding his hair was speaking English, but it took another minute before Tony could comprehend what he was saying.

"Howard Stark," the man said in a thick accent. Middle Eastern. Tony couldn't place it right now, not with every inch of his body hurting, and the effects of whatever they'd knocked him out with starting to wear off. "We have your son, Anthony Stark, right here. We demand retribution for the crimes you have committed against the Ten Rings. Either you pay, or we kill your son. The choice is yours."

Tony became aware of a small screen next to the camera. It showed his father in his study, hands steepled, his face expressionless. Nothing made sense. What was happening? Why wasn't his brain working? Everything felt sluggish and disconnected. It was when he tried to ask his father a question that he realized there was a gag in his mouth, muffling his words. Someone slapped him for making the small, indecipherable noise. He barely felt it. Everything already hurt so much, and he could only focus on small bits at a time.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists," Howard said, looking every bit the cold businessman Tony knew him to be. He could have been staring down a CEO and not his bound and gagged son for all the emotion he was showing.

"Stark, it is negotiate, or your only son and heir dies," the man said as mercilessly as his father had spoken. Tony guessed he was the leader of these people, but the thought fled his mind as the man yanked his hair.

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists, even for hostages."

"Think wisely about your next words, Stark."

"No deal."

Some of the terrorists began murmuring, but the leader seemed unperturbed. A tank of freezing water was placed in front of Tony. The grip on his hair tightened and Tony's eyes screwed up in pain, tears leaking out, mingling with the dried blood. His face was lowered towards the water. The freezing droplets splashed on his face.

"We warned you, Stark," the man said, then forced Tony's head into the tub. He tried to hold his breath, but it was impossible. Water flooded his lungs and burned. He knew he was drowning. He thought they were going to kill him right then and there, but they pulled him up right when he started to believe his lungs would burst. The gag was ripped out of his mouth so he could vomit water and bile all over himself. As soon as he got a breath of air, his head was shoved back under. Again. And again. A cycle of pain and brief bliss, which made it all the more painful.

"What do you say now, Stark?" the man jeered at the screen. Tony was still vomiting after his latest drowning, unable to so much as think.

"No deal."

"You have two weeks, and then you must say goodbye to your son. We'll be in contact."

The line clicked dead. The camera was turned off. Tony's lanky body was tossed into a cell. He was given a crust of bread and a shot of water. He couldn't bear to drink, and when he tried to eat the crust his body tossed it back up. He fell asleep on the hard rock floor of his cell, murmuring Pepper's name in his fitful sleep.

* * *

The next day it was the same thing. The room, the chair, the camera, and the water. Drowning in some dusty cave, far away from any ocean. He could hear the ocean from his room in L.A. That had been happening a lot. Randoms tidbits about what had been his life coming back to him, especially things he had never paid much attention to before. Like the sound of the ocean, the color of Pepper's hair in the sun, and the taste of cheeseburgers.

"What do you say now, Stark?"

"No deal. I will not cooperate with terrorists," Howard repeated. His same answer, day after day.

A foot struck Tony's stomach. He screamed in pain. Howard's face didn't even twitch on the screen. He might as well have been one of the machines he'd invented.

"No deal," he repeated. A foot stomped on Tony's hand with its hard metal toe and snapped more bones in the boy's hand than he'd known he had. He couldn't even scream. His vision blacked out, distorting the image of his mangled fingers.

The camera was turned off. Tony was returned to his cell. The same thing the next day, and the next. After a week Tony knew two things. One: his father was not going to save him, through the ransom or some elaborate rescue. Two: the terrorists would kill him unless he gave them a reason not to. And it would have to be a damn good reason, something they couldn't refuse, something that would keep him alive while he found a way to save himself.

The two weeks passed. On that last day, Howard looked at his son for the first time. All he said was, "Stark men don't cry." Then he hung up. Hung up as the Ten Rings held a gun, a gun Howard had designed, to Tony's head.

"Say night-night, little Stark," the man hissed in his ear.

"Wait!" he cried desperately. "I have a deal to make!"

They laughed.

"We'll let you die on your feet. That's more than a Stark deserves!"

"I can make you weapons!"

Silence fell. Tony was grabbed by his hair, coarse and dirty, and yanked roughly to face the leader for the first time. He was in too much pain to notice.

"I'll kill you myself!" the man declared, cocking his gun.

"I'm serious! I design weapons for my father, I can easily make more for you! Better weapons than the ones you already have!" Tony promised, trying to sound convincing, even though his voice was hoarse from constant screaming. "You already have enough materials that I could make you a Jericho missile!"

The barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead, and a cold bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "Tell me what a Jericho missile is," the man commanded.

"It's the most powerful weapon created by Stark Industries yet. Not even the US government has one! Give me a place to work and a bit of time, and I can make one for you! No one else knows the blueprints, except me, I haven't written it down yet."

The leader looked thoughtful. His subordinates were looking at each other, clearly unsure where this was heading. They had signed up to torture and then kill some rich American brat. Making deals with hostages, much less thirteen year olds, was unheard of. Yet they had ended up in this situation.

"Fine, Stark," the man said finally, removing the gun, but Tony didn't relax yet. "We'll provide you with what you need. But if you try and turn against us, we'll kill you. Your daddy already thinks you're dead anyways. No one's coming to save you."

"Deal. I'm going to need some help, an assistant or something."

The man grimaced. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Fine."

* * *

"Ah, you must be my assistant!" Tony said as a thin man was led into the large cavern that was being outfitted with his desired materials. "Great! We have got a lot of work to do!"

"You're Anthony Stark," the man said in a mixed accent. He had probably been educated in the West.

"Yes, I am. I prefer to be called Tony. How do you…?" Tony asked, somewhat disconcerted. He wasn't used to getting recognized except when he was with his father.

"Oh, everyone knows the Stark's over here. They are the biggest celebrity we have. Stark is written on everything. The guns, the grenades, the missiles…," the man said, holding out his hand. "I'm Yinsen."

"I don't actually do the hand shake thing," Tony said, patting him on the shoulder instead and walking past him to see that a sensitive bit of equipment he'd requested was being handled right. "Are you any good at electronics or mechanics, Yinsen?"

"Not much, but I'm sure I'll be able to help you with whatever you need."

Tony held up his hands, which were wrapped in bandages from all the beatings he'd endured. They were bruised, bloody, and some of them were broken. No good for the finer workings of building his grand plan. "I mostly need a steady pair of hands and someone who can follow instructions."

"That," Yinsen said, smiling the smallest bit, "is something I can do, Tony."

* * *

"You're quiet today, Tony," Yinsen remarked. He was sitting on a crate near where Tony was soldering some wires together. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," the teen said automatically.

"Nothing? I doubt that. Someone with a mind like yours is always thinking of something. Something worthwhile. Most men cannot claim the same."

Tony didn't answer. They'd been working almost nonstop for two weeks now. Tony's hands were beginning to heal, with a little help from Yinsen, who had some medical experience. Yinsen was not actually sure what they were building, since Tony had neglected to tell him. But the man trusted the young genius enough to follow his lead.

"I've been thinking about my family," Yinsen said, almost to himself, but he knew Tony was listening. The teen always slowed down whatever he was doing when he was listening to someone. "I miss then quite a bit. And my friends and neighbors. But I'm certain I'll see them again." Tony snorted. Yinsen grinned, not disturbed by the teen's attitude. "You doubt me, Mr. Stark."

"Don't call me that." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Ah. Some bad blood in your family. You don't get along with your father. You don't want to be known by his name."

"My father is why I'm in this hellhole and not with Pepper." _Shit._

"Who is Pepper?" the man asked with a broad grin this time.

Tony sighed, raking his hand through his hair and inadvertently smearing grease in it. He didn't seem to notice or care. He had been covered in so much blood and dust lately that grease probably felt no different from the rest. He turned around to face Yinsen.

"She's my best friend. She's back home. And she probably thinks I'm dead, so I need to get back because I need her and she needs me," Tony stated. Like it was a universal truth that they went hand-in-hand. He stared down at the tangle of wires. "Which is why I need this to work."

"What to work?" Yinsen asked curiously.

In response, Tony rearranged the blueprints and flicked on the table light. Yinsen approached, cleaning the lenses of his glasses. With the papers illuminated from below, it became clear. Tony's master plan. It was a suit of armor, but unlike any made before.

"You are a genius, Tony. It's a shame you choose to use your talents to create weapons of war. I can hardly imagine all the good you can do for the world."

Tony turned off the light. "I just want to get back to Pepper."

"I know. But you could do so much more than that."

* * *

 _Yinsen's dead, Yinsen's dead, I didn't save him, Yinsen's dead._ Tony's thoughts were stuck on a loop, the man who had helped him through the long months in captivity was dead. He had failed him. Tony's ratty clothes were covered in blood, and he wasn't sure if it was his own, Yinsen's, or all the terrorists' he'd killed in retribution for Yinsen. His jacket was also singed from the large explosion he'd caused when torching their ammunition supply on his way out. Now he was far away from that miserable cave, because he'd gotten out. He'd done it. Now he just had to get lucky.

He was in the middle of nowhere, and he needed to find help. There was no way he could drag his armor with him, so he popped out the central power unit and slipped it into his pocket, leaving the rest. He wrapped the scrap of cloth that had been his jacket around his head to block out the merciless sun and wandered through the desert. He didn't know which way to head, so he started walking and kept going. He would have to hit civilization, or a patrol route, or a war zone, eventually. He had to leave the armor behind. He couldn't lug it with him, it was too heavy. The only thing he'd taken was the blue contraption that had powered the suit, sunken in the center of the chest plate.

Then the miracle came. An armored transport came trundling his way. He staggered to his feet and waved it down, laughing and crying hysterically. It was a US transport. Those were American soldiers running over to him, and American accents that were asking him a million questions that he couldn't comprehend. Before he could even attempt to answer them, they brought him into the truck.

"Are you okay? Do you need medical help?" a young woman was asking him. Her strawberry blonde hair was peeking out of her collar. It reminded him of Pepper. Oh, god, Pepper. He hadn't heard her voice in three months and five days. If he hadn't been sitting he might have collapsed as he realized that he would see her soon.

"No, no, I need a radio, please, I need a long distance radio," Tony begged, grabbing the soldier's arm.

"American, huh? How'd you end up here?" the soldier asked. "Why were you out in the desert alone? It's not safe out there, kid."

Tony choked on his sob. It sure wasn't safe. "My name is Anthony Stark, and I need a long distance radio, _please."_

"Stark? The Stark kid? I heard you died months ago back in the States, what's this about?" the soldier asked suspiciously.

"I swear, my name is Anthony Stark and I need—"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence. There was a giant explosion and the transport flipped over. Tony's life flashed before his eyes, and then there was a ringing. Blood trickled down his ear. He struggled out of his hefty seat belt and scrambled away as he felt flesh touch him. The strawberry haired soldier. She was dead. She'd struck her head when they flipped. Not thinking, he yanked open the door and stumbled out, his knees hitting the hard, sandy rock. A few more soldiers were stumbling out, like him, hefting their guns and returning fire at the small group that had attacked them. Tony turned and ran, trying to hide on the other side of the transport.

A missile landed right next to him. He only had enough time to see that it read _Stark Industries_ before it exploded.

He felt the shrapnel tear through his chest. He gasped for breath. His vision was going blurry, but he saw people kneeling above him, their mouths moving. Then he slipped away.

* * *

Tony jolted awake, gasping for air. He sat up, attempting to rip the tubed and wires in his body out, but suddenly hands were pinning him down. He thrashed, but stopped as a burning pain tore through him. He panted for breath, his hand going to his chest. He froze as he felt a foreign, metal object embedded in the center of his chest. He looked up in horror at the people before him.

"What have you done to me?" he asked shakily.

"You were going to die, Mr. Stark," a man said, entering the room with a tall female trailing behind him. "Shrapnel was heading straight for your heart. They had to perform an emergency operation to save your life. The result...well, the result is only temporary. I already have people working on alternatives."

He looked up at the man. He was an older guy, a government worker based on his practical suit and posture. He seemed oddly familiar. "I know you," Tony said, making it sound like an accusation.

"I'm surprised you remember," the man said calmly, sitting down near the bed the teen was in. "You were pretty young. Maybe five or six. We weren't introduced. I'm Agent Phil Coulson. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What are you doing here?" Tony demanded. He knew of S.H.I.E.L.D. They were an intelligence organization. What did they want with him?

"You're Howard's son, aren't you? You warrant some special attention. Especially since you're supposed to be dead."

One of Howard's friends. Of course. Tony decided to ignore the agent. He'd never liked his father's friends. They were all alcoholics like Howard himself, who talked business all the time. This one would be no different than the others. Instead Tony focused on the metal implant in his chest cavity, which appeared to be hooked up to a car battery. He did some quick math in his head and almost fainted. He had approximately a week to live before even that battery couldn't sustain his heart, weak from the shrapnel put there by a Stark missile. A missile he had designed.

The agent noticed where his attention had gone. "Like I said, we're working on a better solution—"

"Don't bother," Tony interrupted. He reached into his pocket, thankful that he was met with cool glass. He hadn't lost or broke it. That was some good luck. "I need someone to clean this extremely well. Then bring it back to me. Quickly."

Coulson motioned for one of the doctors to do so. Tony let it go reluctantly, and watched as his invention was cleaned. The doctor returned and held it out for him to take.

"Actually, I need your help," Tony said, reaching up and unscrewing the implant in his chest. People surged forward to stop him, except it was too late. "I seem to be going into cardiac arrest. Doc, if you could attach that to the plate in the hole in my chest, I would appreciate it."

"Um, I don't know…" the doctor said, trailing off as he stared at the hole in the boy's chest.

"Do it, dammit, he's dying!" Coulson snapped. The doctor nodded and did as Tony had ordered.

"Much better," Tony sighed as the device clicked into place. "Great job, doc. You deserve a raise. Really. I'm all better. That should kept my heart pumping, for, let's see, ever."

"Why don't you all give me some time alone with Mr. Stark?" Coulson suggested, and everyone immediately cleared out. The woman with him shut the doors, but Tony knew she was still there, listening in or recording them.

"There, I'm good to go, Agent. Bring me home," Tony commanded.

"We're on American soil right now, Mr. Stark. I'll let you go as soon as I can determine what happened to you since your kidnapping."

"Why don't you ask dear old dad? He knows about as much as I do. Maybe more."

"Please, just answer my questions, and then we can move on."

Tony did. His answers were brief, sarcastic, and biting. Tony made no secret his discontent for the interrogation. But Coulson was patient, asking specific questions and offering no commentary on his side. They were done in an hour. Coulson didn't seem quite satisfied, but he turned off the recording device.

"Great, if that's all, then I want to go home now," Tony announced and stood up, having long ago ripped off the medical equipment.

"Actually, Mr. Stark, there are some things you missed these past few months," Coulson said, blocking his way.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm _way_ behind on music. Any suggestions, Agent? You're probably still listening to stuff from the seventies though, so maybe I should ask someone else."

" _Anthony,"_ Coulson said, grabbing his arm and sighing. He met the teen's eyes. "I'm sorry. There was a car crash two weeks ago. Your parents died in it."

Tony yanked away, shaking his head. "No. You're lying. No. That can't be true."

"I am so sorry. Your parents were wonderful people. They didn't deserve this." Coulson's heart broke from looking at the absolute devastation on the genius's face.

"STOP IT!" he screamed, backing away. "They're not dead, _they're not!_ They can't be." Tony sank against the wall, tears pouring down his face. "No, no, no…," he murmured. "They can't be, _they can't._ Oh, god, no, please..."

* * *

"Your father left you everything. Your mother, too. The company, all the estates, and the bank accounts. You're now the wealthiest man in the world. Not bad for thirteen," a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent said, dropping a file in front of Tony. Coulson and one of his interns were also in the room.

Tony didn't even look at the file. He stared straight at Coulson. "I want to go home."

"Mr. Stark, that isn't possible right now. Due to the current situation, S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks it's best if you stay here for a while. While you get acclimated and we find a way to tell the world that you're not dead," Coulson explained.

That was the first time in a week Tony had both eaten a meal, showered, and slept, all in one day. He still looked exhausted and his eyes were bloodshot. It wasn't easy to come back from months of torture to find out your parents were dead. Though the teen was being unpleasant enough that even Coulson was getting close to hitting him. He had a way of finding people's sore points and aggravating them. And he didn't care if he upset someone, not in his current state.

"I don't care about any of this damn legal stuff. I have a mansion in L.A., and I want to go to it. Right now," the teen said.

"Coulson, maybe we could arrange something," the intern said. He was young, about sixteen, no older. He wore a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform.

The agent looked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"We know Stark lied to us," the intern said, and Tony watched their exchange. "Maybe we should search his residence. And bring the kid along. He needs some familiarity right now."

"Who are you again?" Tony interrupted.

"James Rhodes," he said.

"Well, _Rhodey,_ I don't really think you should be speaking for me."

"I'm trying to help you, you arrogant ass! Do you want to go to your place for a bit or not?"

Tony blinked, then leaned back. "By all means, continue."

Coulson rubbed his temples. "Wait, what just happened? Did he actually agree to something? Rhodes, you're in charge of him now. Do whatever you want with him, just make sure word about him doesn't get out."

"Yes, sir. Let's go, kid. I think it's time you got out of all these bunkers," Rhodes said, grinning at the teen slumped on the couch. Tony hopped up right away and practically teleported to Rhodes's side.

"Please tell me I can drive," Tony said, a desperate note to his voice as they left the room.

"Maybe. Wait til we're out of view of this place though. I don't think we're supposed to let you drive, since you're kind of a detainee, I guess? I don't know, man, I just need some extra credit to get into the officer's academy early."

* * *

"I need to make a call," Tony declared as they sped along a cliff. They'd been driving for two hours down to his mansion. They'd chatted on and off along the way, although both were careful to keep Afghanistan out of the conversation.

"To who? You're dead, remember?" Rhodes reminded him.

"Well, I need to make this call."

"Will you tell me who you want to call?" Rhodes pressed. Tony didn't answer, so the older boy sighed. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

They were silent for a few minutes. The beautiful California coast whizzed by. Tony was a confident driver, edging way over the speed limit whenever they were alone. Rhodes would have stopped him, except he had a feeling that Tony needed this. He felt safe enough. He'd been skeptical when the thirteen year old had asked to drive, but he was excellent at it.

"How do you know how to drive? You can't even get a permit yet," Rhodes asked, trying to break Tony out of his shell. He was mourning, and Rhodes worried that if the boy was left to his own devices he might try to join his parents, one way or another. No one at S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to share his concern. Tony had practically been in isolation.

"I've built the fastest cars on Earth. Of course I can drive. I taught myself," Tony answered. He didn't seem impressed by Rhodes's question.

"When?"

"I was around seven. The hardest part was reaching the pedals."

Rhodes laughed. "That's crazy."

The kid's mouth tilted up. "You know what, Rhodey? I think I like you." Before the agent could even think of a response, Tony said, "We're here."

Tony yanked the wheel and they made an abrupt right onto a gravel road. They drove through a grove for a full two minutes before they hit a set of iron gates. Tony did a retinal scan at the gate to admit them, then pulled up in front of a beautiful mansion. He got out without a word and walked up to the front doors. Rhodes trailed after him, unsure if he should comfort Tony or leave him alone. He had very little experience dealing with orphaned billionaire geniuses.

"Home sweet home," Tony whispered, pausing at the large front doors. He didn't look at Rhodes as he said, "No one's mentioned the driver."

"The driver?"

"My father never drove himself. Did the driver die too?"

"No one survived the wreck," Rhodes said. Did Tony want someone to blame for the accident? Why had he asked now? Coulson could have told him a week ago if he wanted to know.

Something in Tony's eyes guttered out. He shoved open the doors, allowing them to slam into the walls. He stormed inside and grabbed something from a drawer. A gun. Rhodes lunged after him, whether to stop Tony from shooting him or Tony from shooting himself, he didn't know. But Tony shoot a vase instead. Rhodes dropped, covering his head as Tony starting shooting _everything_. The paintings, the statues, the chandelier, the walls, the windows. His face was blank and he didn't stop until the clip was empty and broken glass littered the ground. Then he dropped the gun and walked upstairs without a word.

He was so skinny and pale from his imprisonment in a cave that he looked like a ghost haunting his own mansion.

Rhodes followed cautiously, keeping his hand on the stun gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Tony's behavior was erratic and dangerous right now. He seemed to be picking a lock. Heavy oak doors swung open, revealing what had obviously been his father's study. Rhodes followed him in, staying by the door.

Tony sat at the enormous desk, looking like a child playing grown-up. He turned on the computer and starting typing. Rhodes watched him.

"My father worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said. He must not have known. It wasn't unusual for those in S.H.I.E.L.D. to lie to their families about it.

"Yes. He was our top weapons distributor and consultant," Rhodes said.

"When did he tell you that I'd died?"

Rhodes wasn't sure where he was going with these questions. But he decided to play along. "The day after you claim you were kidnapped."

"Claim?" Tony said in amusement, raising an eyebrow but not looking up.

"We don't have any actual proof of when you were taken. No one was there to witness it. And you were, uh…"

"Tortured. Don't be polite now, I'm not going to wither away like a delicate flower. I remember every minute of what they did to me. I wonder if my father can say the same."

Rhodes frowned. "Why would Howard Stark remember you being tortured? He thought you were dead."

"Yes, he did. Except he thinks I died three and a half months ago, not four." He turned the screen towards Rhodes. "Ta-da."

He stepped forward and leaned down to see the screen. It was displaying grainy footage that was harshly lit. It showed men with their faces covered, holding large guns, and a scrawny, bloodied boy being held by his hair in the front. The man was saying something, demanding a ransom. In the corner was a small box showing Howard Stark's stern face. He was talking with the man in the cave. Rhodes felt sick. This was real. It was dated the day Tony had supposedly died. Howard had known they had his son. Known, and done shit to save him.

"This happened for a month," Tony said in a detached voice. On screen, Tony was being shoved into a tank of water, being tortured. Howard seemed unaffected. Rhodes wanted to hurl. "He let those bastards do that to me, he never even tried to save me. So why don't you bring this back to your precious S.H.I.E.L.D., and show them what type of man Howard really was. I also have a secret camera in my room that should have footage of my kidnapping."

Tony got up and went to leave the room. Rhodes called after him, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"I need to make a call." Tony left.

Rhodes began transferring the files on Howard's computer onto a USB. Director Fury would want to see this. Coulson too. As he worked, he marveled at Tony's genius. Tony had known his father had these files. He'd faked homesickness to get Rhodes to take him back to the mansion to find the evidence. Rhodes could tell he hated this whole mansion and had had no desire to be back here. This had been a ploy, to prove his story and slander his father. And, to make that very important call.

"Good job, kid," Rhodes said to the empty room, impressed with the little genius. Once the files were downloaded he went to find Tony. It took a few minutes, but then he found him in an upstairs bedroom. Tony's room. Gadgets and science books were everywhere. The teen was staring at his computer screen, at a picture.

"Who's she?" Rhodes asked. Tony didn't turn away from the picture. It was of a girl his age with strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing a uniform and laughing. She was cute.

"Pepper." Tony sighed. "This is a mistake. Let's go."

"Whoa, wait up," Rhodes said, and Tony turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "This is who you've been bugging me for hours to call, and you're chickening out now? Screw that. Call her."

"Well, it's not like she'll answer a guy she thinks is dead anyways," Tony snapped.

"Yes she will. Call her."

He hesitated. "I can't. I can't tell her over a video chat that I'm alive."

"Okay. So how do we get you two to meet in person?" Rhodes asked.

Tony's head shot up. "You'll help me?"

"I think I like you, Tony. So, sure. What can we do?"

* * *

"Pepper?" Tony said, stepping into the room.

The strawberry blonde whirled around, her hands flying to her mouth. "Tony?" she whispered, lowering her hands. Tears were already sliding down her face.

"I'm here." She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed without restraint into his shoulder. He gripped her tightly and his breath was shaky as he said, "I'm sorry, Pepper, I'm so sorry. I'm never leaving you again, I'm sorry."

"How...how are you alive? I went to your funeral, Tony, you were dead. Everyone thought you were dead," she sniffed.

"It's a long story."

"What's going to happen now?"

Tony sat down on a couch against the wall. Pepper kept his hand in hers, checking his pulse. She could hardly believe this was happening. He'd been dead. But now he was here, in her house. Very much not dead. It was almost too much. He looked thin, and tired. More tired than she'd ever seen him look, even with all his late night tinkering.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm moving to New York. I have a property there, that used to be Dad's, but now...well, it's mine."

"I'll come with. I'll transfer schools so we can stay together."

He shook his head. "I'm not going back to school, Pepper."

"Tony, tell me what's happening. How are you alive, who's taking care of you, why are you moving to New York?"

"God, I've missed you. More than you can know," he said, staring at her as if memorizing her face.

"You're worrying me."

Those simple words snapped something in him. His head dropped to his hands and he trembled. She placed a soothing hand on his back. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know what was wrong. Or rather, she didn't know what wasn't wrong right now.

"They're all dead. Mom, Dad, Jarvis… S.H.I.E.L.D. is watching me right now. They're a government agency Dad worked with. Because of what happened they don't want people knowing I'm alive. They're setting up a special program, for kids...like me. We're going to use the place in New York to run it."

"Tony, you're not making sense. What happened to you?"

He was crying now, she could tell. "I killed them, Pepper, I killed them. They're dead, and they're going to come after me."

His words, nonsensical, swirled around in her head. She sat next to him and gripped his hands as only the sound of his crying filled the room. A few minutes later they heard a commotion outside. The doors were flung open and a man in a suit came in, trailed by an apologetic looking teenager.

"Mr. Stark, I thought we told you that you were not to contact anyone," the man in the suit said, his mouth a thin line.

"Coulson, Rhodes had nothing to do with this, I tricked him-" Tony began to say, but he was cut off.

"I know that Rhodes was fully aware of what he was doing. You may be the smartest person in the room, Tony, but you're not the only smart one."

"What's going on?" Pepper demanded, moving protectively in front of Tony.

Coulson's gaze transferred over to her. "Miss Potts, I am so sorry for this scene."

"Cut the crap!" Tony snapped. "She already knows I'm alive! Its staying that way. If you want me to become a ghost, fine, but she gets to know. I need her, so she stays."

The agent didn't respond for a minute. Then he said, "Very well. We'll work out the details later."

"How am I going to convince my parents to switch my school?" Pepper murmured to Tony.

He looked down at her. His growth spurt had kicked in this year and it was the first time in his life he was taller than her. It annoyed her that they were no longer eye to eye. She could have sworn he'd grown another inch since she'd last seen him. Or maybe he just seemed older. She'd thought she'd had a bad time, losing her best friend, but she could tell something far worse had happened to him.

"Didn't they want you to go to that all girls finishing school in upstate New York?"

"I can't believe you remember that. It's not ideal...but, yeah, that will work. They've been hinting they want me to switch schools lately since the, uh, crash."

"Rhodes, please return Mr. Stark to HQ," Coulson said. The agent turned to the teenage girl. "I would like to talk to Miss Potts."

"Alright. Let's go, Tony," the other guy, Rhodes said.

He looked upset, but he hugged Pepper one last time and said, "Check the link later." Then he left with the other teenager. Her only consolation was that she'd talk to him later. She was glad now she hadn't taken down the setup Tony had made for them to talk on. She'd considered doing that after attending his funeral.

"Please sit down, Miss Potts. I think there are certain things you should be brought up to date with regarding Mr. Stark," Agent Coulson said once they had both seated themselves.

"What do you mean? Is he okay?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure I'd say that. I believe Howard Stark told everyone that his son was captured by a radical terrorist group and then killed."

"Yes," she said.

"Parts of that are true. From what Mr. Stark tells us, the group that captured him was called the Ten Rings."

"Oh, God."

Coulson continued. "The group held Mr. Stark somewhere in Afghanistan for approximately three months. He was tortured there. The group tried to get a ransom out of Howard Stark, but he refused to pay. After a month they planned to kill the younger Mr. Stark. Instead, he cut a deal with the terrorists for time. He managed to escape. He killed all the terrorists in his escape. He then blew up the cave."

Pepper was feeling a bit faint. "How do we know they weren't killed in the blast?"

"Miss Potts, because the entire base was blown to bits and we couldn't recover any evidence from the scene, we have to rely on Mr. Stark's report of the events. His wording was very specific. He killed them all individually, and _then_ blew up the place," Coulson told her. Though his words were those of a man stating facts, she could see in his face that he wanted to comfort her. But that wasn't his job. "We've found evidence of the blast sight, but it's hard to find any bodies. The blast incinerated everything in the area."

She didn't say anything. Her mind was racing.

"His injuries also line up with the events he tells us happened in the cave. I'll spare you the details. He sustained severe injuries before he was brought to an American base, and then transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s care. He's perfectly stable now. There's an implant in his chest keeping him alive indefinitely. He's been back in the US for about two weeks. We had to break the news to him that his parents had died. He's been mourning."

She laughed, and Coulson frowned. "Miss Potts?"

"You really don't know him do you?" she said, shaking her head. "Tony doesn't care that his parents are dead. Jarvis was driving the car. Jarvis is dead. And you've been consoling him about his parents."

"The driver?" Coulson asked for clarification. He remembered the name in passing, as a note in the article on the car crash. Everyone knew there had been three victims, but the passing of the tech titan and his model wife had been of much more interest to the world as a whole. Stark Industries was one of the biggest companies in the world. It had been a tragedy, the passing of the parents two months after their poor son.

"Yes, the driver. Jarvis. He practically raised Tony. His father beat him and his mother never tried to stop him," Pepper snapped. Coulson looked surprised. She folded her arms. "I want to go with Tony."

"I'm sorry, but S.H.I.E.L.D. does not have the ability to care for minors."

"What about Tony, and your intern? He didn't look eighteen."

"Rhodes works for us. He's been cleared by the army to work with us. And Mr. Stark is one of our charges."

She had heard of what S.H.I.E.L.D. did. They were an intelligence agency, a worldwide net of spies and assassins. They only dealt with people who posed a danger to the world or the United States. They were also incredibly secretive and managed to stay out of the news.

"Tony's not dangerous."

"Many of my agents would disagree with you, Miss Potts. He managed to single-handedly take down a well armed terrorist ring. But that's not the only reason my organization has him in our care. When Howard Stark passed, he listed the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. as the next legal guardian."

* * *

"This is it. My prison."

Pepper whacked Tony's arm. "Stop being over-dramatic. Phil and I will be in and out all the time. You have state of the art labs and garages and dozens of acres."

"Phil? Why is he Phil? He's locking me up here!" Tony snapped.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Because in the week it took to get this place ready you built some wierd iron man suit and trashed a gang in LA."

"They deserved it. They were the ones who smuggled the weapons to the Ten Rings."

"Maybe they were guilty, but it wasn't your job to put them in jail. And the hospital. Now you're officially the first Avenger. Deemed too dangerous by the US government to be with us normal people. And you know what? I completely agree. You need to be protected from yourself, Tony."

"Whatever. Do you think there's ever going to be another Avenger?"

"Yes. I think the world's gone crazy and you're going to have plenty of friends in no time."

He began walking towards the building. "You might be right. Better take advantage of the quiet time now. That stint down in LA was really enlightening. I have a ton of work to do on the suit. Hey, what'd ya call it? An Iron Man suit? I like that." She laughed at him and waved. He strolled towards the new Avengers Facility.

 _Iron Man, the first Avenger,_ he thought. It had a nice ring to it.


	2. Chapter 2 (Interlude)

"I was thinking you could have the room right next to mine," Tony said, leading Pepper down the halls. "I already got you some stuff, and you can bring your own stuff too, or you can buy whatever else you want to go in there. I'm loaded with cash."

"This place is amazing, Tony," she told him sincerely.

It was huge, bigger than his mansion in LA had been. It had acres and acres of land, including manicured lawns and a small forest. There were fancy gardens next to an outdoor pool and hot tub. Adjoining to the super fancy and expensive kitchen was an outdoor dining area with a bonfire pit. On the inside there were dozens of bedrooms, a library, a joint kitchenette, living room and formal dining room, workout rooms, a home theater, and tons of other places. Tony had already begun converting the basement into a work space for himself. The only downside was that the entire place was enclosed within a ten foot fence, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up even more security measures. Both to keep people in and out.

There wasn't much for Tony to do on his own. He was practically living in the Facility all by himself, since no new Avengers had been identified yet. The only time he had company was when either Agent Coulson or Rhodes visited. From what Pepper could tell, Tony completely shut out Coulson when he was here, and when Rhodey stayed with him he wouldn't talk to the officer about anything of importance. Tony had been acting like his whole situation was normal, that he wasn't adjusting to the altered reality he'd returned to. Even as he smiled at her, Pepper could see the dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights and the pallor of his skin that had yet to recover from his months of imprisonment.

She'd been especially disturbed to learn that Tony didn't want to attend either his parents or Jarvis's funerals. He was clearly in pain, and now she was the only one left who cared about him and whose help he might accept. So she'd donated one of her weekends off school to come spent it with him. She'd lied to her parents and said she was staying with a friend from school. She knew she'd have to tell them eventually, but it wasn't exactly easy to explain that Tony was still alive.

"I think Dad planned for this to be our summer home," Tony said. He could have been mistaken for being casual except for the tightening of his shoulders. "He never got around to that."

"I'm so sorry, Tony," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.

"Stop. I'm fine, Pepper, really. I've been keeping busy, and I know Rhodey's been sending you updates. Neither of you are that sneaky."

He wasn't fine, though, that was obvious. Whatever had happened between him and his father, Tony had still loved him. He'd loved his mother too. And Jarvis most of all. No one is fine just a few weeks after losing everyone, even child geniuses. But she didn't want to upset him, so she didn't dispute him. She's come to make him happy, not to force him to talk about things he clearly didn't want to talk about.

"Okay. What else do you want to show me?"

He grinned and she knew she had made the right move. He grabbed her hand and dragged her along after him. She laughed at his enthusiasm. They went down a set of stairs where Tony pressed his hand against a panel in the wall and a glass door slid open. He pulled her through and stood back.

"What do you think?"

She spun around, trying to take it all in. It was a huge space, probably the length of the whole mansion. There were expensive sports cars, long work tables piled with electronics and motors, a kitchen and lounge area, a gigantic computer set-up, and all along the back wall…

"Tony, what are those?" she asked, pointing, her voice too level.

He didn't notice her change in tone. "I told you I was going to get tinkering, Pep. I'm calling them Iron Man suits."

There were at least five of them so far. She'd seen the one he created over a month ago. It had been plain silver and somewhat bulky. These were entirely different. He'd clearly perfected the design. These new suits were sleek, sophisticated, even to her untrained eye. Most of them had a red and gold paint job. Tony hadn't lost his flamboyant streak, it seemed.

"What on Earth are you thinking?" she hissed at him. "S.H.I.E.L.D. confiscated and blew up your last suit! Why would you make more?"

"I was expecting a little more support, to be completely honest with you," he said, trying to mask his insecurity with jokes like always. Pepper wasn't having it today.

She rubbed her temples. "God, why can't you just let this go? You're going to get yourself killed, flying in these death traps and trying to be a hero. There are agencies, like S.H.I.E.L.D. who can deal with all that stuff. You just need to not die."

"I saw people killed, Pepper!" he said hotly. "With the weapons I designed for my father. It was always a fun challenge, making weapons. It was the only time dear old Dad ever looked proud of me, so I did it. What did I care for the consequences? I can't be that ignorant anymore, that irresponsible. I have to do something. And now I can. I can do so much good with these suits."

She raised her hand to her forehead. "I can't believe this, I can't believe it! You're safe now, Tony, you can relax! You're thirteen, you don't need to save the world."

"You don't get it," he said bitterly, turning away.

"Then explain it to me and I'll try to understand!" she yelled.

He didn't say anything. He just walked over to his work table and started fiddling with something. Angry tears burned in Pepper's eyes as she stormed out of the garage.

* * *

"He's obsessed with those suits down in his garage, Phil," Pepper said sadly, sipping her smoothie. "Every weekend I've spent here he spends at least three hours a day down there, working on them. He already has five, but with his energy he might have ten by now."

"I know. Rhodes has been telling me the same thing," Phil admitted. Phil had actually transferred Rhodes to a different division so he could work at the Facility and keep an eye on Tony. He'd been looking for a new intern for weeks to replace Rhodes.

They sat in the kitchen of the Facility. Tony was in the garage, and Pepper was using the opportunity to express her worry without him eavesdropping. She'd let the Iron Man thing slide for the first month. She had figured he was just grieving in his own unique way and that it would wear off. But another month had passed, and he showed absolutely no sign of slowing down. She was really getting worried for his sanity, but she couldn't spend all day with him. She still had her parents and school to take care of.

"Well, what should we do? He's going to kill himself at this rate."

Coulson sighed. "I've met men like Tony. They keep going and going until they drop. The only thing we can do is offer an alternative to going vigilante."

She already looked worried. Coulson did too. "What are you thinking, Phil?"

"Give him a job with S.H.I.E.L.D., put him on some missions. Provide him with an effective way to channel this new direction he's decided to head in."

Pepper stood up, setting her smoothie down. "No. No. You cannot be thinking of having him actually going on missions. He's thirteen!"

"And Rhodes is sixteen. Exceptions can be made, especially for geniuses such as Tony. He's already in the Avengers program."

"Because you think he's too dangerous to be in the real world."

"Well…" Phil said, tilting his hand back and forth. "The original idea behind the Avengers was a group of powered individuals who could take on threats so big even S.H.I.E.L.D. can't handle them. Since the new direction led us to making it for powered and dangerous children, the idea was dropped. But if Tony's willing…"

"Stop. I can't even listen to this."

Phil sighed. "Miss Potts, unless you have a better alternative, we need to think about what's best for Tony."

"I refuse to believe that this is what's best for him."

"I won't start him with missions. He can help consult with the science division, and then he would need to have proper training in combat and mission protocol. All in all, he probably won't actually be in the field for a year or so."

Pepper nibbled her lip worriedly, then sighed. "Okay. Fine. For Tony."

* * *

Tony was tapping his foot anxiously as he sat in the limo. He wore a designer suit and he'd washed all the grease out of his hair, though some still lingered under his fingernails. Overall, though, he looked like a nice, respectable boy. Pepper also looked beautiful in a blue evening gown, her hair pulled out of her face. Like they were on their way to their first date. That couldn't have been farther from what was happening.

They had decided that it was time to tell her parents that, surprise, Tony Stark wasn't dead.

Both of them were understandably nervous. Pepper, because she didn't know how her parents would react. Tony, because he hadn't left the Facility in three months. He kept staring out the window, almost surprised to see that nothing had really changed. Flying cars hadn't suddenly been invented and people still flocked to fast food joints. It all seemed so very ordinary when he felt like his entire world had been flipped upside down.

The limo pulled into a fancy neighborhood where the houses were spread out from each other and had tall fences, as if they wanted to pretend they didn't have neighbors. Through the gates and hedges Tony caught glimpses of mansions and pools and expensive sports cars. It was a sight he was very familiar with. They pulled onto a cobblestone driveway and stopped in front of a ivy covered manor house. Pepper slipped her arm through his and walked him through the front doors and into the elevator.

"Okay, please be nice. These are my parents, and they're expecting me to bring my friend from my all girls school, not my supposed-to-be-dead best friend," Pepper said anxiously.

"I can behave," he said, offended.

"I know, just I also know sometimes you act before you think."

He shrugged. That was true.

The doors opened with a soft chime. Pepper took a deep breath and stepped out onto the rooftop garden. A table for four was set, with Christmas lights strung on the trellis. It was a picturesque little scene. Servants stood in attendance by the sides, filling water glasses and bringing out the appetizers. A delicious aroma filled the crisp evening air. Tony hung back a bit as Pepper stepped forward.

"Mom, Dad," Pepper said, her voice wavering.

"Oh, welcome home, dear," her father said without looking up from his phone.

Her mother's eyes went wide as she saw the guest her daughter had brought. She grabbed her husband's arm. "How can this be possible?" she whispered.

Mr. Potts stood in alarm as he realized who the guest was. "What is going on here?!"

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potts," Tony said, his usual arrogance seeping into his voice.

"You're supposed to be dead," Mr. Potts said bluntly.

"You should have asked to see a body," he replied flatly. "Seeing is believing, and as you can see, I am very much alive." He strode over and pulled out a seat for Pepper. She sat down gingerly. Tony sat down next to her, keeping his eyes on Mr. Potts. Both of Pepper's parents looked distinctly uncomfortable, but neither could look away from the apparition sitting at their table.

"I suppose I should start with telling you that if you tell anyone, even your own family, that I am still alive, you'll have to be silenced," Tony said. Pepper thought that was dramatic, but her parents bought it. "That goes for your waitstaff too."

"They can keep quiet," Mrs. Potts assured him. Her hand was shaking as she sipped from her wine. Tony's smile turned a bit sharp as he noticed that, so Pepper decided to step in.

"I'm sorry for springing this on you," she said, placing her napkin in her lap. "I would have told you sooner if I could have."

"And how long have you known, Virgina, that the son of my best friend is still alive?" her father asked.

Pepper grabbed Tony's leg under the table to keep him calm. He always got so defensive of her, but now was not the time to be a hero. Not when it was her parents. She could deal with them herself. She raised her chin as she answered.

"For a few months. I was under oath not to tell anyone until tonight."

"What the hell is going on? You show up here with a boy who's supposed to be long dead and now you're giving me vague answers? Who's controlling what you tell your own parents?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is."

Tony leaned across the table towards Mr. Potts. "Feigning ignorance will do you no good now. I found the records of what you did, Mr. Potts. I always knew you were loyal to my father, but I had no clue how loyal you truly were until now. You lied to your wife and daughter. You even lied to S.H.I.E.L.D. I've already told Nick Fury. I can personally promise you that you will never work for them again."

"What on Earth is he talking about?" Mrs. Potts asked, fanning herself. "My husband doesn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D., Mr. Stark. You must be confused."

Mr. Potts didn't move. A carefully blank expression covered his face. Tony was the opposite. His hands were curling into fists and a sneer was pulling at his lips. Pepper looked back and forth between the two, not sure what was happening. What did Tony mean her father had lied to her?

"Are you going to tell them? Or should I?" Tony taunted, a growl creeping into his voice.

"I have no clue what this madman is raving on about," Mr. Potts said listlessly.

Tony grinned. "Wrong answer. I present to you, exhibit number one!" He pulled out a document from his jacket and set it on the table. It had S.H.I.E.L.D. written across the top. And at the bottom were two signatures. One of Mr. Stark, and one of Mr. Potts. "You had frequent business with S.H.I.E.L.D., often in association with my father. You never told your wife or daughter though. I wonder what excuse you gave them. My father always claimed he had a meeting. You probably did the same, used each other to backup your alibis."

Mrs. Potts reached out and took the document. Her brows moved closer together the longer she read. Tony wasn't anywhere near done, though. He set his phone on the table next.

"Last chance to confess your sins. Because if you don't, then I will." Mr. Potts didn't say anything. Tony snorted. "Fine then, bastard. I'll tell them myself."

"Tell me what?" Pepper demanded angrily, looking at her father for an explanation, but he wouldn't look at her.

Tony was delighted. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. "Your father knew that I wasn't dead, Pep. It took a while, but I found the camera in my dad's office. Footage of your father being present while my father watched me getting tortured. They both knew I was alive. And they both thought I died a month after my kidnapping when they refused to pay the ransom. He helped cover up the fact of the true circumstances of my kidnapping."

Pepper looked horrified. Mrs. Potts was outright crying now. Tony tapped his phone and the footage started playing. It was true. All of it. Tony's anguished screams cut through the peaceful night air. When the recording ended, Mr. Potts raised his head to look at the young genius.

"What is it that you want?" he asked, his lips barely moving.

"I'm glad you asked," Tony said. "You are not, in any way, to restrict Pepper's access to me. As of this moment, you can consider her emancipated. She's her own person and you do not control her. Or else the second bit of evidence I presented will also make its way to S.H.I.E.L.D. and I can guarantee that you will be locked away for a long, long time, Mr. Potts."

"Fine. Get out of my house."

"Gladly. Come along, Pepper dear. We have to return home before Agent finds out we snuck out." Tony helped Pepper up. She wouldn't meet her father's eyes. They headed to the elevator. Tony caught the doors just before they closed and added, "Mrs. Potts? I would suggest divorcing your husband while you have the chance. My mother made the mistake of staying, and now she's dead."

* * *

 **Hey, guys! This chapter is shorter because it's a sort of interlude, bits that take place between introducing new Avengers. Roughly every other chapter or so will be this length. Please review, and get ready to meet little Steve Rogers next week!**

 **~Lady of Lorule**


	3. Chapter 3

Steve sighed and raked a hand through his hair. The bills had come again, and once again, they didn't have enough saved up to pay them. They had already received one notice. For once, they'd been on track to make all their payments, but then Steve had caught yet another virus and their money had had to be diverted to medical expenses. Of which there were tons. Even then, just sitting there in their apartment, holding the bills, he felt a deep cough building up in his chest.

"Hey, Stevie, I'm home!" Bucky called, the door slamming shut behind him, though a chill wind still swept in. Winter was on its way. Which meant they would _really_ need to pay rent. And preferably their facilities bills too. Oh, dear God, this was a mess. Bucky walked into the living room, unwrapping his patched scarf. His little sister had made that for him. "You won't believe who I ran into. You remember Dot? I think we went to middle school, maybe fifth grade with her. She sure grew up pretty."

The light in Bucky's eyes dimmed as he saw Steve holding the mail. Steve frowned.

"Mail came. We can't put this off again, Buck. What are we going to do?" Steve asked desperately.

Bucky came and sat next to him, rubbing his temples. "Okay. Okay, we'll think of something. I'll get another job or something. I'll take care of it."

"Bucky, this is _our_ apartment, _we'll_ take care of it."

"No. You need your income to get your meds. And you're still recovering from that pneumonia, there's no way you can handle two jobs. I can do it, it'll be fine."

"Bucky, you're taking on too much, you're gonna kill yourself at this rate."

"Well, we have to do something!" Bucky snapped. He looked immediately remorseful. Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, and Bucky leaned into his touch. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. It's been a long month. Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow, when we're better rested."

"Okay," Steve agreed. They ate their small supper, then went to bed. They'd only been able to afford one queen size bed, and either way their apartment only had space for one bed, so they slept together in their small room. It wasn't a lot, but they were both alive, and they were together. That was all that really mattered to them.

Sarah Rogers had died six months ago. Almost all of her remaining money, Steve's inheritance, had had to be spent on her funeral expenses. Steve had even had to sell her old apartment and most of her belongings to move into this little place. Bucky had decided to move in with him. He claimed that his family's house was getting too crowded, because all of his siblings and parents still lived there. Steve hadn't been fooled. He knew Bucky thought he'd die if he lived on his own. But he didn't complain. He loved living with his best friend, even if they struggled to make enough to pay their rent.

It wasn't exactly easy for illegal immigrants with no parents to get work. Especially teenagers who were lying on their bills and almost all their legal documents to claim that they were eighteen. They had never even bothered trying to afford cable. Their TV sat in the living room, gathering dust, a testament to their poverty.

* * *

"Stevie, I had an idea," Bucky said in his usual teasing tone, but he wouldn't meet his friend's eyes.

"What?" he asked curiously, biting into his apple.

"I heard about this experimental project looking for young volunteers. It was offering a huge cash reward."

Steve frowned. "I don't know. That sounds kind of sketchy."

"That's the funny thing. It was being run by some government branch. Shield, or something? Sword? I don't know. Haven't really heard of it before, but it seemed legit. We can go to the library tonight, check if its legal, and if it is, I think I should sign up."

Steve was incredulous. "Are you insane? No, no, _no!_ We're not some government lab rats, and even if we were, they won't hire you. You're seventeen."

"But I don't look it, and according to my I.D., I'm eighteen," Bucky reminded him.

Another place the money had gone. Fake I.D.s, with fake ages. They'd needed them to buy their apartment, because even though it wasn't the nicest neighborhood, there were still laws, and the landlords didn't want any backlash from CPS for harboring runaways. Not that Bucky was a runaway exactly, but he was underage.

They tried to use their illegal I.D.s as little as possible. They weren't exactly comfortable with the situation. They only used the cards when getting jobs and convincing dubious real estate agents that yes, ma'am, they were most certainly eighteen. Yes, ma'am, Steve was scrawny for his age. Health complications, ma'am, such a shame. Bucky was the smoothest, most charming liar Steve had ever met, and he was glad of it. He'd talked their way out of more than one sticky situation.

"Fine. We'll check this out," Steve said reluctantly. Bucky grinned victoriously. Steve threw the apple core at him, but Bucky, the MVP of his middle school baseball team, caught it easily and then chucked it into the trash. "Show off," Steve mumbled in annoyance. "Did it say what the experiment was for?"

"Not in much detail. Something pretentious like saving humanity. You know how the government big-shots like to exaggerate."

"Sounds like you'll fit right in."

Bucky laughed, pulling on his coat and grabbing his scarf. "I gotta go. Can't be late."

"See ya after work."

…

"Names, please," the man at the front desk said, not even looking up when they approached.

"Uh, I'm James Barnes," Bucky said, shooting a look at his best friend.

"Steven Rogers."

The man typed something into his computer. Bucky and Steve waited awkwardly for him to finish. They'd been told to come to this strange office building for their interview, but something was distinctly off. There was no signage, no indication of who worked there. They'd had to pass through two different metal detectors, empty the contents of their wallets at the door, and cameras had been following them ever since they got in. All of it was very suspicious.

"Okay, I have you two listed here. Please take a seat. You'll be called when we're ready," the man said in a monotone voice.

The teens moved hesitantly over to the seating area. Three people were already waiting there. A man and two women. The oldest of them couldn't have been more than twenty-three or -four years old. That had been one of the few stipulations with applying for this experiment: volunteers had to be under twenty-five, and have absolutely no criminal record. Steve was growing more interested in the experiment by the minute. This was much more important than their ad had been letting on, he could tell.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Bucky whispered as they sat down.

"I don't know, Buck. This whole thing was your idea, remember?" His best friend didn't have a response to that. They settled back in their seats to wait.

Five minutes later, a door opened opened. An older man with circular glasses stepped in, looking at his clipboard. "Steven Rogers."

Steve looked at Bucky automatically. Bucky gave him a reassuring smile, so he got up and walked over to the man. He felt like everyone was watching him. It made him uncomfortable.

"Steven?" the man checked.

"Steve," he corrected, his throat a little dry.

"I'm Dr. Erskine. Please follow," the man instructed. He had a German accent.

The doctor led him down an unadorned hallway. Steve trailed behind awkwardly, his footsteps sounding too loud to his ears. They reached a plain door. The doctor held it open and Steve stepped in. It looked like a typical doctor's office. There was the paper-covered bed for patients, a chair by the door for guests, and a computer set-up for the doctor himself. The only unusual thing about it was the absolute lack of decoration. Not a single poster, post-it note, or personal touch in the room.

"Is this a check-up? I thought I signed up for an interview," Steve said, face scrunching in confusion.

Dr. Erskine chuckled. "It is an interview. But there is a physical component to this selection process. Could you please take off you shirt?"

Steve didn't move. "I'm sorry, but what exactly am I walking into?"

"Interesting. You are the first one to ask me that," the doctor said, than sat down and observed Steve. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is allowing me to conduct an experiment of my own design. It is called Project Rebirth. Today, I pick five or so candidates for my project. Only one person will undergo the experiment in the end. So why did you come today, Mr. Rogers, hmm?"

"I need the money," Steve admitted. He knew that wasn't what you were supposed to say at interviews, but this felt different. He had a feeling that Dr. Erskine would have known if he lied, and would have been disappointed.

"That's a very honest answer, but people can get money in lots of ways. Why here? Why an experiment this dubious, this secretive? Why risk it?"

He hesitated before saying, "The description said this experiment might give its subject the ability to do a lot of good in the world."

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, I know a lot of people who get overlooked by the system. I've been one of them. So if I can make a difference, have a chance to look out for the little guy, then I have to take it. I have to at least try."

Dr. Erskine's expression was inscrutable. Steve waited nervously for him to reply. This was the weirdest job interview of his life, and he suddenly really wanted in on this project. He wanted to do some good in the world, instead of struggling through life.

"Well, Steve, I'm afraid to tell you that the candidates S.H.I.E.L.D. wants me to pick are supposed to be over eighteen, American citizens, and in good health."

He froze in shock. "How did you…?"

"Know that you faked your age? Oh, Steve, your friend I might be able to believe is eighteen, but you are clearly not. Come, tell me your real age."

"Fifteen," he mumbled, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"The undocumented part was a lucky guess," the doctor admitted. "But one that seems to be correct." Steve nodded. "Judging on your general appearance, I'd guess you are underweight, malnourished, and probably have a weak immune system, maybe asthma or lung problems too."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to waste your time—" Steve said, making to leave the room.

"Wait just a moment. I am not upset that you lied. I'm actually impressed."

"You are?" he said skeptically.

Erskine smiled. "Yes. Your dedication and ambition is admirable. Since this is my project, I think some strings can be pulled. Welcome to Project Rebirth, Mr. Rogers."

Steve blinked, then said, "Thank you, doctor."

…

 _You have been selected to be among the six candidates for Project Rebirth._

 _Enclosed you will find the monetary sum promised at the start of your application process for your participation._

 _You are required to report to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey in one week exactly. You are not allowed to tell anyone the nature of Project Rebirth or divulge any information during the selection process or afterwards without express permission. If these standards are not met, you may face expulsion from the program and jail time. If you acquire a criminal record during the selection process you will be immediately expelled from the program. Anyone can be expelled at any time at the discretion of the head of Project Rebirth._

 _You may drop out of Project Rebirth at any time prior to selection._

 _If selected, you will be approached with a new set of requirements._

 _From the Head of Project Rebirth, Doctor Abraham Erskine_

…

Bucky and Steve both read their acceptance letters quietly. Glee rose up in the fifteen year old as he read it. He'd done it. Erskine had actually chosen him. He would have a shot at being part of history. _And_ the check he'd just received would keep him and Bucky afloat for a month, minimum, plus there was the promise of more on the way the longer he was in the program. Things were finally looking up for them.

"What does yours say?" Bucky asked.

"I'm in," Steve said, a smile spreading across his face.

"So am I. Which means that you don't have to do it anymore."

"But I want to do it," Steve said firmly. His best friend looked at him like he'd just grown a third eye, then groaned.

"I knew it, I knew you were going to say that," he grumbled. "Steve, your lungs hate you. In fact, most of your body hates you. You can't sign up for some wacky science experiment!"

Steve crossed his arms. He hated when people brought up his ailments. Especially when Bucky did it, because Bucky knew that he hated it. Even if it was a fair point. He was too stubborn to admit that, though.

"You're going to sign up, aren't you?" he retorted.

"Of course!" Bucky snapped. "I'm perfectly healthy and we need the money."

"What about your family?"

"They don't need me, they can get by on their own. _You_ can't. Rent is too much and you don't have insurance, so meds are overpriced. This is our best shot at not losing the apartment, maybe even having some stability for a while."

"Which is why we should _both_ apply and double the odds," Steve argued.

Bucky pulled at his hair. "Jesus, I can't believe we're even talking about this. This is a no-brainer. I go, you stay, we keep the apartment and you don't lose your job."

"What, as an intern making minimum wage? Yeah, it's be a real tragedy if I lost that," he said sarcastically. "You're being obtuse. _We_ need this. So _we're_ going to call and tell them we're _both_ continuing with this. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Bucky stood up abruptly, something strange in his expression. Steve was immediately wary. They'd never really fought, not over something this serious before. He wasn't sure how his friend would react. Was he angry, was he mad? Dammit, Steve couldn't tell, which had never happened before. He had always been able to tell how Bucky was feeling, sometimes even better than he had known his own feelings. It was an irrefutable truth, and Steve did not appreciate Bucky changing that up on him.

All those thoughts evaporated instantly as Bucky strode right up to him and kissed him.

Steve reacted automatically, kissing him back, his hands grabbing the front of Bucky's jacket. It was passionate, hungry, and desperate, and over far too soon. Bucky jerked away and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Steve stood still for a moment, his hands still raised. He dropped them, feeling kind of foolish. For a moment only their ragged breathing filled the room.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid, I shouldn't have...God," Bucky moaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Steve agreed, tilting his best friend's head up and kissing him again, quick and sweet. "But you're my idiot, okay?"

Bucky's eyes went wide. "You're not mad?"

"Do I look mad?"

"You're perfectly okay with what just happened?" Bucky asked dubiously, despite the fact that Steve had just kissed him.

"What? I told you I was bi when we were, like, eleven."

"No, I know. I just didn't think that you thought of me in that way. Dear God, I sound like some lovesick middle-schooler," Bucky grumbled, then blew out a breath and met Steve's eyes. "I've kind of been in love with you for a while."

"Same here," Steve admitted. Bucky grinned and they kissed again. "Wait, we were arguing."

Bucky frowned at him. "Would you like to continue?"

Steve laughed. "No. Because I'm signing up for the experiment and you can't stop me."

"Fine. Fine, we'll both do it. Happy now?"

"Yes," he answered smugly. They kissed again for a minute, learning the shape and rhythms of each other in an entirely new way. Both were a little nervous, but they didn't let that stop them. Steve pulled away again and said, "Wait."

"What now?" Bucky groaned.

"Since I'm assuming this is going to be a thing now, I don't think we should tell people."

"What?" Bucky asked, backing up in disgust.

"No, not because I'm ashamed of us, Buck, I swear. I'm just worried that if people know, it might disqualify both of us for being selected for the experiment," Steve explained anxiously. "I don't want our relationship to be used against us."

Bucky laughed shakily in relief. "Oh. Okay, I agree." His smile turned a bit mischievous, the kind of smile Steve had learned to love because it meant Bucky had just had a great idea. "We should probably take advantage of our week together before we have to head to Jersey then."

…

Camp Lehigh was hell on earth for a ninety-four pound asthmatic. It was one of the toughest training camps in the country, and one of the most secret, used mainly for special task forces, like CIA and S.H.I.E.L.D. There were brutal exercises and grueling workouts. Steve's gun almost weighed as much as him, and he had to run carrying it and a sixty pound bag. Bucky worried relentlessly about how much strain Steve was placing himself under, but the smaller man ignored him. He was determined to be selected for this. Even if the other soldiers laughed at him.

They were doing another drill. Agent Carter, a beautiful young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, was pacing in front of them, inspecting them as they did push-ups. Steve liked her. She was a harsh instructor, but incredibly fair and not easily intimidated. The first time a male soldier mouthed off to her she'd knee him in the balls and then calmly continued her speech. Honestly, she was a bit scary.

As Steve struggled to do push-ups, he heard Peggy saying to another candidate, "Did I tell you to stop, soldier? Keep going. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul."

Sweat trickled down Steve's face and his arms trembled. He was getting slightly better at push-ups after a few weeks of training, but only slightly. He knew that Bucky was eyeing him nervously as he flawlessly did his own push-ups. It only made Steve more determined to finish his set. He had to prove to Bucky that he could handle this. Bucky had become especially nervous about the experiment after Agent Carter had begun dropping heavy hints that it was dangerous, possibly lethal, and completely theoretical. But Steve trusted Erskine and if that man said it was safe, that was all Steve needed.

Speaking of Erskine, Steve could see him talking to Colonel Phillips, off to the side. Agent Carter yelled that they could stop. Instead of sinking into the earth like his body was begging him to do, he rose to his feet and stared ahead.

"Grenade!" Colonel Phillips suddenly yelled, and a small metal container landed in the line of soldiers.

Everyone immediately began scattering, trying to take shelter, even though they were in the center of the training yard. Bucky tried to grab Steve, no doubt planning to throw him out of range, but he slipped out of his grasp. He ran straight for the grenade and threw his own body on top of the explosive.

"Steve!" he heard Bucky shout in pure terror.

"Stay back!" Steve yelled, both for Bucky and for everyone else. He closed his eyes and curled around the grenade, readying himself for the blast. But after a few seconds, the blast didn't come. He opened his eyes and sat up, and the first person he saw was Agent Carter, standing right in front of him. She hadn't ducked. He looked over at Erskine and Colonel Phillips in confusion. "Was this a test?"

The colonel snorted and walked away. Erskine just smiled mysteriously and turned to follow him.

"It was just a dummy grenade," he heard one of the men say.

Agent Carter kneeled in front of him. "You're safe. That was a very stupid thing to do, Rogers," she said to him in her British accent. Her brown eyes warmed. "But also very brave."

Bucky slammed to his knees next to him and grabbed his arm. Steve was surprised to see how frantic he looked. "What the hell were you thinking?! You stupid, goddamn punk! You could have been killed!"

"Bucky," Steve murmured in embarrassment. Agent Carter was still there. "I'm fine, I promise."

She stood and left without another word. The soldiers parted before her like she was queen. She was simply one of those people who was a natural born leader. Her heels seemed to puncture the earth with every step and she never lost balance. Steve didn't actually know what she did for S.H.I.E.L.D. She'd simply been introduced as Agent Carter and they'd been told she'd oversee Project Rebirth. She was young too, probably nineteen or twenty. She must be quite the individual to be in charge of such as important project at such a young age.

"I wish I had her training right now so I could beat your ass for being so fucking reckless," Bucky said, scowling. Steve got up. His arm was scratched and bleeding.

"Maybe you should join S.H.I.E.L.D.," Steve said, wincing as he poked at his wound. "Then you wouldn't need to ask Agent Carter."

"Don't think I won't."

…

"Congratulations, Steven," Erskine said, walking into the bunks.

He looked up. He was the only one in the bunks. Everyone else was already getting dinner, but he'd hung back a minute to grab his coat.

"What for, Doc?" he asked, shrugging on his coat.

Erskine sat on one of the beds. "Peggy and I just received a reply from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. That's it. You win."

"What?" Steve asked blankly.

"Steven, you've been selected for Project Rebirth. You get to be the world's first super-soldier."

He laughed, overwhelmed with happiness. He sat down heavily across from Erskine, who smiled indulgently at him. He could hardly take it all in. He'd done it. He'd beaten out five much more qualified candidates. Those weeks of training and disgusting amounts of exercise had paid off. He would finally have a chance to be strong enough to protect others. No more physical limitations.

"Thank you," Steve said finally.

"Bah. I did nothing. We chose you. Because you are a good man who I believe deserves to be great."

"So when will the experiment be?"

Erskine shrugged. "There is still much to set up. All the fancy officials want to be there. All so busy. Peggy will work it out with them. Soon though. Probably within the month."

"Peggy?" he asked.

"Agent Carter," he clarified. "She only lets her friends call her that. Otherwise everyone would try to walk all over her. A shame, how inconsiderate humans can be."

"No kidding," he muttered.

"Yes, you know how that feels. To have people discredit you, because you are not like them. So I want you to promise me something, Steven. Remember that feeling. Remember who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

…

"Hello, Steve," a smooth voice said from behind him. Suddenly a woman was sliding into the booth seat across from him. It actually took him a minute to recognize Agent Carter out of her uniform. Her hair was pulled up and she wore a dress with a leather jacket. She looked more like a college student than a secret agent. Which he supposed was the point.

"Agent Carter, what are you doing here?" Steve asked in surprise.

"It's the night before the big day," she remarked, smiling wryly. "It seems fitting to wish you luck. And since we'll be working together a lot in the future, I think you should call me Peggy."

He blinked. "Thanks. What exactly will I be doing, if the experiment works?"

"I'm not one for science, but I've known Dr. Erskine a few years, and if he says his serum will work, it will work. I have no worries about that. What comes after…," she shrugged, "who knows? This has never been done. Of course, the Army will want you, but you'll be in a pre-negotiated contract with S.H.I.E.L.D., so they'll get first stab at you. The uses for a super-soldier are limitless. Espionage, warfare, protection, enforcement. And you'll be the first of many, so you'll have your pick of the bunch. What do you want to do, Steve?"

He felt like that question had two meanings. Her brown eyes seemed to see straight through him as he fiddled with his glass of water. To be honest, he couldn't remember a beautiful woman like Peggy ever paying him this much attention for a reason other than she was concerned for his health. While he may be in love with Bucky, he was having a hard time not getting distracted by her beauty.

"I want to help people," Steve said honestly. "I want to make a difference."

She smirked. "I knew you were the right person for this. Phillips wanted to pick Hodge. The last thing this planet needs is another tough guy with muscles and no brains."

"What is going to happen to Hodge and the others from the project?"

"We gave them options. They can return to their normal lives, nicely paid and with the promise of legal action and criminal charges should they ever reveal details about Project Rebirth. Any participant is offered a high ranking spot in the military if they wish. And I offered two candidates jobs at S.H.I.E.L.D. for their exceptional skill. I actually offered one to your friend Barnes. He's an incredible sniper."

Steve nearly choked on his sip of water. "What?" he blurted out, then blushed.

Peggy tilted her head. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought he would have told you."

"Did he accept?"

"Yes. He's already been assigned to a team. This training counted as an introductory level for S.H.I.E.L.D. He's set to start working within the week."

Steve didn't understand. Bucky hadn't mentioned anything about job offers from S.H.I.E.L.D. to him. To be fair, he'd been really busy preparing for this experiment. There'd been a million waivers and forms to fill out, both for if he lived or died in the experiment. But they'd still seen each other. Bucky would have had time to tell him about this incredibly important decision he'd made.

"Are you alright, Steve?" she asked worriedly when he didn't say anything for a minute.

He smiled at her. "Yeah. Thanks, Peggy. If you don't mind, I think I need to go talk to Bucky."

She nodded sharply, giving away her military training in an otherwise foolproof civilian disguise. "Of course. I'll pick you up tomorrow and bring you to the place where we'll be conducting the experiment. Sleep well."

Hopefully he would get any sleep at all with his nerves. But sleep would have to wait until after he confronted Bucky.

…

Everyone was in the bunk when he got back except Bucky. Steve thanked a few of the others as they congratulated him on being selected. All their animosity and mocking was gone now that he'd beat them. He made his way over to his bed. A note was resting on the pillow. He read it silently.

 _Sorry, Steve. I should have told you that I took on a job at S.H.I.E.L.D., but I was never sure how to bring it up. It just never seemed like the time. I want to be there for the experiment, but they weren't going to let me in the room anyways, so I figured I'd head out tonight to meet the agents I'll be working with. It's a good gig, and if I get a head start I'll be able to catch up to you later and we can work together, since you're going to be a super-soldier and all. Be safe, punk._

Steve didn't even need to check the signature at the bottom to know Bucky had written this. The handwriting was more familiar than his own. He was torn between understanding Bucky's decision and wanting to punch the jerk for leaving a goodbye note. Maybe it would be a good thing though. With the super-soldier serum, Steve would automatically be high ranking in S.H.I.E.L.D. Bucky would need to work his way up if they wanted to watch each other's backs.

Steve decided to go to bed early. He was starting to get nervous about the experiment, despite Erskine's and Peggy's reassurances. He had a feeling it might take awhile to fall asleep. Plus, trying to sleep meant that he couldn't go strangle Bucky.

…

"What are you doing?" Peggy asked him curiously.

They were sitting in the backseat of an armored car, on their way to the experiment. Peggy wore her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. It was amazing how different she looked when she was in uniform versus when she dressed casually. Steve was wearing an Army uniform and he was drawing something on his arm with a Sharpie. He had to keep adjusting his belt. The pants they'd issued him were a bit big. He imagined that the Army rarely had to outfit someone his size.

"Doodling," he replied simply, frowning in concentration. "I draw when I'm nervous."

She leaned forward. "May I see?"

He seemed surprised by her interest, but he proffered his arm to her. Her fingers were nimble as she traced the abstract pattern that wrapped around his forearm and elbow. Her brown eyes were inscrutable as she let go and leaned back. He pulled his sleeve down.

"Why do you do that?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "I like drawing. It calms me down. When I don't have any paper I just use my skin."

"Are you nervous about the experiment?"

"No. Actually, I'm worried about Bucky," he admitted.

She tilted her head. "Why? He's with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Exactly. I know what he's doing is dangerous, and usually we're there to watch each others backs. Its weird to think that it might be awhile before we do any assignments together."

"You're very close, aren't you?" she asked sympathetically.

"Bucky's all I have in this world."

The car pulled to a stop. Steve opened the door and stepped out, then helped Peggy out. They had arrived outside a small store front. Peggy walked confidently inside, so Steve trailed behind her, following her lead. She exchanged a few words with the worker inside. A secret door opened up in the back of the shop. Steve followed Peggy in. They were in some sort of hidden hallway. A few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were inside. They all stood at attention as Peggy passed them.

"Peggy, what is you rank anyways? You never said," Steve whispered.

"I'm a Field Officer," she said without looking at him. Steve nearly stumbled in surprise. That was one of the highest positions someone could hold. Only below the Director and the Field Superior Officers. She must be in charge of tons of agents and projects. No wonder everyone treated her with so much respect. And no wonder she seemed so dead set on keeping that respect.

She led him into a large chamber. Erskine and a couple of other scientists were scurrying around, probably with the final preparations. There were two rows of chairs set out, and a few people were already seated. They looked like high ranking government and military officials, probably coming to see if Erskine would succeed. To see if super-soldiers were a real possibility for the world. It could revolutionize how countries conducted warfare if it worked.

Erskine came over, looking both nervous and excited. "It's the big day, Steven. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, Doctor," he said honestly.

"That's my boy. Let's get you set up." Erskine frowned at Peggy. "Agent, shouldn't you go sit down?"

"Ah, yes. Of course," she said, jumping a little. For a moment, Steve thought she was going to say something to him, but then she turned away and joined the other officials.

Erskine led him over to a chair with restraints in the center of the room. Steve eyed those warily, but still sat down. A man instructed him to remove his shirt. He hesitated, then pulled it off. He grimaced as he saw the Sharpie design that wrapped around his arms, visible to everyone. He wouldn't have done that if he knew he was going to have to undress before everyone. Whatever. It was too late now. He took a steadying breath as someone approached him with a needle.

"Penicillin," Erskine explained. Steve nodded, then winced as the needle went in. Not too bad, but he'd never been a fan of shots.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Erskine projected, facing the government officials, "we are beginning the experiment now. Our subject will be injected with the special serum of my own creation. It will cause instantaneous changes in his body on a cellular level."

Steve calmed himself as two loose restraints were placed over his wrists. Erskine stood right next to him as one of the scientists placed a needle into each of Steve's arms, hooked up to a bag of blue fluid. The super-soldier serum. Steve started to panic a little, but Erskine placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Then the doctor nodded, and the serum started pouring into Steve's veins.

Steve convulsed as the pain hit him like a tidal wave. It swept through his veins, burning him away, rebuilding him into something _new._ His back arched and an involuntary scream escaped his lips. It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt._ Other people were yelling, their shouts mingling with his.

"Stop this experiment, doctor!"

"What's happening?!"

"Get those out!" Erskine shouted. Steve recognized his voice in his pain filled daze.

"No!" Steve shouted, then whimpered, "Leave them. I can do it."

"He's dying!"

"They stay in," Erskine said with finality. The waves of pain were sweeping through him, faster and faster. Steve gritted his teeth, determined to stay awake even as the next shot of pain threatened to knock him out. He had to stay awake.

"You're crazy! Someone stop this!"

"No! It's almost done! Come on, Steven!"

The pain came to a crescendo. Steve curled in on himself, then went limp as the pain dissipated. He panted heavily, his body feeling heavy and strange. His hearing returned in a roar, a cacophony of voices sweeping over him. Someone removed his restraints. Erskine's hand guided him to a standing position. Steve stood unsteadily, then realized he wasn't standing upright. He straightened and blinked, looking around in amazement.

He was suddenly tall. Tall enough to see over almost everyone around him. Everything was clearer, sharper. He thought he might even be seeing some of the colors for the first time. He looked down at his hands and was amazed to see they'd nearly doubled in size. They were broad, with long, strong fingers. His arms were also bigger, and the Sharpie was gone. A smile spread across his chest as he looked at his brand new six-pack. Science was truly incredible.

The scientists were congratulating each other excitedly. Erskine was shaking hands with the officials. For a second, Steve felt like he was standing in the eye of the storm. Then Peggy was in front of him. He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"Taller," he said honestly. She smiled and grabbed a shirt. She tapped his pec tentatively, as if checking it was real, then handed him the shirt and slipped away. He was still adjusting to the feel of his new body so he barely noticed her odd behavior.

He pulled on the shirt. He felt incredible. Every ailment that had been plaguing him his whole life were simply gone. His lungs didn't struggle to pull in air. His limbs didn't feel awkward and sore. He felt strong, powerful, healthy. He'd never felt like this.

He smirked. Wait til Bucky saw him.

"Hey!" an agent yelled from the doorway. Everyone looked over just in time to see the agent fall to the ground as a gun went off. A man barged into the room, gun raised. He shot Erskine in the chest. Steve reacted, running straight for him, amazed at how easily and quickly his legs carried him. The man shot him, but Steve barely felt it. He tackled the man, but before he could wrestle the gun away, the man shot himself in the head. Steve scrambled back in horror.

He stood up. The room was in chaos. People were still hiding. The guards of the government officials were tugging their charges out of the room. The body of the shooter was examined and declared dead. Steve stumbled over to Erskine's body. The doctor was dead. It had been a clean shot through his heart. He didn't move until Peggy rested a hand on his back and guided him from the room. She led him out of the storefront and into a car. They started driving. Steve didn't talk. Peggy made multiple phone calls. After an hour, she finally looked at him.

"Are you hurt?"

He blinked. "I think a bullet grazed my arm."

"Why didn't you say something?" she demanded, frowning and pulling out a first aid kit.

"It didn't seem important."

She shook her head. "Dr. Erskine was my friend too. But he'd want you to take care of yourself, Steve." She grabbed his arm and examined his arm. She used a cloth to wipe away the blood, then laughed softly. "It's already healed. The serum really did work."

Steve peeked at his arm. Where an hour ago there'd been a deep graze, now there was only a angry looking scratch. Completely closed.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. While S.H.I.E.L.D. figures out what to do next. Erskine was the only one who knew how to make the serum, as a precaution. Now that he's gone...Project Rebirth needs to be reevaluated."

…

"Rogers."

Steve stood as Director Fury entered the room. His room, at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Peggy said it was called the Triskelion. He hadn't cared much at the time. He'd just seen Erskine killed. In the week since he hadn't done much exploring. He'd tried to find out if Bucky was there, to no success. Otherwise he'd been undergoing countless tests for the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists. He didn't bother ask what they were trying to accomplish.

"Director."

Fury was an imposing man. Tall, mysterious, always wearing a long, black jacket, and no one seemed to know how he'd lost his eye. He leaned in the doorway. Steve waited patiently for him to talk.

"With the unfortunate loss of Dr. Erskine, Project Rebirth has had to been discontinued," the director said bluntly. "The samples of your blood are all we have to base the serum after, and some of my best men have told me we simply don't have technology advanced enough for that yet. While we were going through Erskine's things, looking for an formula for the serum, we came across a rather interesting piece of information about you, Rogers. You're fifteen years old."

Steve froze. Shit. He hadn't even thought about the fact he was underage ever since he'd been selected. He especially hadn't been worried since he'd gotten the serum. He looked at least twenty now, with his height, and muscles, and even his face looked older. That had taken some getting used to.

"Sir, I can explain," Steve said, though he wasn't sure what he was going to explain. He'd lied to the US government, plain and simple. Erskine had helped. They knew all that.

"No need. I'm not going to throw this world's only super-soldier into some prison. However, I can no longer allow you to serve as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent at this time. Not as a field agent, at least."

"I don't understand."

Fury walked into his room and stood before him. "There's a very secret project I have one of my top agents monitoring. Even more secret than Project Rebirth. It's called the Avengers Initiative. The idea is to place all the unique and potentially dangerous minors together, in a place where the world is safe from them, and they are safe from the world. I'm making you an Avenger, effective immediately. You will be transferred to upstate New York. You and one other are the current testers of the Initiative. To see if it can work."

"When do I leave?" Steve asked. He didn't care. He'd already been a guinea pig for one project. What was one more?

"Immediately. There's a jet waiting to take you there now. Head up to the roof."

…

Three people were waiting for him when he stepped off the jet. It was nighttime, but thanks to the serum, he could easily distinguish the hangar bay he'd landed at, the large mansion in front of him, the adjacent buildings, and the tall fence encircling the entire area. Of the three people, he only knew Peggy. She was in uniform, standing behind a man in a suit. The third person was a dark haired teen. He must have been the other test subject Fury had told him about.

"Welcome to the Avenger's Facility, Steve Rogers," the man said. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson. I oversee the Avengers Initiative. I believe you already know Agent Carter. And this is Tony Stark."

Steve's head snapped up. "Tony Stark died. It was all over the news."

The teenager laughed. He wore a band T-shirt with a strange blue glow in the center, and grease stained jeans. Steve guessed that he was slightly younger than him, maybe fourteen or thirteen. He was lanky, like he was going through a growth spurt, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"Don't believe everything you read. It's how you landed in this mess, right? You trusted that S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to make you special, make you important," the teen sneered. "But once they were done using you as a lab rat they sent you out here to hide their mistakes."

Steve already didn't like Tony. It had been big news when the heir to Stark Industries was killed by terrorists. Steve and Bucky had commented on how awful the whole situation was, a kid dying that young, with so much promise. Right now, he didn't think he'd care if Tony dropped dead.

"Steve was incredibly brave in volunteering for Project Rebirth, and is only here because Erskine lied about his age," Peggy said, instantly hopping to Steve's defense. "We didn't use him."

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Coulson cut in. "That's enough. We'll show you to your room. A full tour can wait until tomorrow."

"I don't care about that," Steve said, not moving when Coulson gestured for him to get in the waiting car. "I am allowed to talk to Bucky?"

Coulson looked over at Peggy. Her expression was soft as she said, "Of course. You're not a prisoner, Steve. Though he may not be available at all times. I've heard he's already started field work with his team. Radio silence is sometimes a necessity for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

Steve nodded. He didn't care how long he was here as long as he could still talk to Bucky.

…

Steve took to jogging around the perimeter of the Facility every morning before the sun had fully risen. He ran dozens of miles in minutes, and hardly broke a sweat. He was doing it again this morning. He didn't know why. He was in peak physical condition. Running made no difference.

"On your left," Steve said, easily surpassing a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was also out for a morning jog.

"On my left. Got it," the guy said.

Steve lapped him five more times. He kind of enjoyed it. He'd never been faster than anyone before because of his pathetic lungs. Now he was probably the fastest man on the planet. That was incredible. He felt slightly bad for lapping the other guy so much, but he seemed to take it well. The guy just seemed exasperated at him, before he collapsed under a tree and tried to catch his breath. Steve decided to check up on him.

"You okay?" Steve asked, stopping before the guy.

"Oh, yeah, great," he panted. "Apparently I'm not as in shape as you, though. How much did you just run? Like thirty miles in fifteen minutes."

He shrugged. "I wasn't keeping track."

"Damn," he said, holding up his hand. "Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers," he replied, helping Sam stand up.

"I kind of figured. My boss told me about you. You're the new Avenger, Erskine's protegee. Man, I should have signed myself up for Project Rebirth."

"Who's your boss?"

"Agent Coulson. I'm kind of his new intern," Sam said, grinning. "I just got transferred to the Facility, too."

"Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you, Sam," Steve said politely, turning to head back to the mansion.

"You ever need someone to train with or something, you can ask for me," Sam said, and Steve turned to look at him. "I know having Stark as a roommate is kind of lonely. He's a genius, but he's not very social."

Steve smiled. That actually sounded kind of nice. Tony was in his garage nearly all the time, and even when he wasn't, they tended to fight a lot. They were both too stubborn to back out of a conflict. And besides his occasional calls to Bucky, Steve was pretty alone in the Facility.

"I will."

…

"Oh, hey, Peggy!" Steve yelled, ducking under Sam's punch. "Come to offer some pointers, or are you joining in today?"

They were in the training room. Steve and Sam were practicing their defense in the boxing ring. Sam was dripping sweat, but Steve looked fresh as ever. Tony was doing something with his repulsors on a bench nearby, seemingly ignoring anyone else's presence. Peggy strode in, still in uniform.

"Steve, we need to talk," she said seriously.

"Oh, look out!" Sam called, swinging at Steve's head. The super-soldier easily stopped the blow, and then twisted Sam's arm so that he couldn't use it, but it didn't hurt. "Alright, alright, you win. Big surprise."

"Steve," Peggy repeated.

He laughingly let go of Sam's arm and started unwrapping the bandages on his hand. Sam ducked out of the ring and grabbed his water bottle, dumping the contents on his head and sighing in relief. Steve hopped out of the ring and landed in front of Peggy. He sobered up as he saw the look on her face.

"What is it?"

She sighed. "We lost contact with the Howling Commandos three hours ago. We only just heard back from them now. They were ambushed on their assignment. I'm sorry, Steve. Bucky didn't make it back."

Tony got up and came over. "What do you mean? Was he captured?"

"His unit listed him as deceased. They weren't able to retrieve the body."

"That means he could still be alive, right?" the genius demanded. Steve was too dazed to really comprehend that Tony Stark was actually being nice and taking an interest in something serious. "Is there any chance of a recovery?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't think so. The Commandos said…"

Steve didn't hear the rest. He started walking without thinking, his feet carrying him out of the room. He heard murmuring behind him, and then Sam said, "Let him go. I know how he feels. He needs some alone time."

…

Steve snuck down to the garage late at night. Tony had designed a shield for him, made out of vibranium, when he learned that Steve didn't actually have any weapons and didn't like guns. He'd shown Steve how the shield would suit his fighting style, easy to use for both defense and offense. Steve had tested it out a few times and had had to begrudgingly admit that it was perfect to Tony. The genius had shrugged and walked away with a smirk, a man satisfied that his work was just as amazing as he thought.

Steve would need that shield if he was going to break out of the Facility.

He punched in the code he'd seen Tony enter a million times to open the garage door. The door slid open and Steve entered the thankfully dark garage. He'd been worried Tony would pull an all-nighter, but for once the young genius must have actually crashed in his bedroom and not the couch in the garage. He made his way over to the wall of weapons Tony had designed. The shield was in a black suitcase. Steve pulled it down and flipped it open.

It was empty.

"I thought you'd come for that."

Steve whirled around. A light flicked on by the cases of Iron Man suits. Tony was there. He'd put on a dark sweater to hide the glow of his arc reactor. And in his hand was the shield. Steve slid into a fighting stance.

"You're not as clever as you think," Tony continued. "Or at least, I'm more clever than you thought. I designed a weapon especially suited to your abilities. Your best buddy is missing. You need a way to break out of this place, which is designed to hold you. So you waited until you thought I wouldn't be here and planned to break out in the middle of the night when security is the lightest."

"I'm leaving, Tony. I need to find Bucky."

The dark haired boy groaned. "Rogers, he's dead! The Commandos are one of the best units, if they say they couldn't save him, then you don't have a chance!"

"Give me the shield."

"No."

"Tony, please," he begged.

He shook his head. "I can't. You're being unreasonable, and that's my job."

"Then I'm sorry." Steve ran at him, determined to get the shield. Tony simply stepped backwards and one of his metal suits wrapped around him. He used his repulsor to blast Steve back, but the super-soldier was coming back at him in a second.

"Stop it already!" Tony yelled as they fought hand to hand. The fact that he was punching metal didn't even seem to register with Steve. Luckily, he wasn't fighting at his best right now, he was too emotional. Tony was able to easily fend him off with the help from his suit, whereas on a normal day Steve surpassed him in hand-to-hand combat.

"Just let me take the damn shield!" Steve retorted. Every time he went to grab it from the floor, Tony blasted either him or the shield out of reach. It didn't help that the genius had the home turf advantage in his own garage. His robots and other suits and even the layout was designed to help Tony. He'd made his workplace so that he'd be able to defend it from the whole of the US military by himself. He was paranoid, to say the least, but right now it was working in his favor.

Tony finally pinned him to ground by using some super magnet handcuffs. Steve struggled to lift his arms from the ground, but he'd already expended so much energy that he couldn't muster enough strength. Tony sat down heavily next to him and pulled off his helmet, panting.

"I know how you feel about Barnes, okay? I have people I'd do anything for, too," Tony said, looking around the wreck that had been his garage. "I've even taken my fair share of revenge, so I understand. But you're not me, Rogers. You'll regret it later if you do something unethical. I'm trying to stop you before that happens."

Steve stopped struggling. "Its my fault," he said despairingly.

Tony looked at him with an inscrutable expression. "No. No, it isn't."


	4. Chapter 4 (Interlude)

"You're quiet this morning," Peggy said, looking over her tablet at him. "What's on your mind?"

He rolled his head back to look at her. They were on the shaded patio outside, enjoying one of the last warm days of the year. She was sitting at one of the tables, looking over some of her files from work. Steve had simply laid across a pool chair and had been staring up at the sky.

"Just thinking."

She set her tablet down and leaned over him, a small grin playing at her lips. "Are you going to make me guess?"

He didn't say anything at first, just looked in her brown eyes. Then he leaned up and kissed her softly on the lips. She was surprised, but she quickly kissed him back. It was soft, sweet, and hesitant. Steve was the first to pull away. He sat up, facing away from her. She didn't move, too stunned by his reaction. He'd kissed her. Why had he stopped it?

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured. "I shouldn't have done that."

She got up and sat next to him. "Steve, you have nothing to be sorry for. I like you."

"I know, I like you, too, but…"

"What? What's wrong?"

He sighed. "I feel like I'm betraying Bucky."

She blinked. Of all the things she'd expected him to say right now, that hadn't even crossed her mind. Bucky had gone missing over a month ago, and Steve talked about him frequently, but now seemed like an odd time to bring up his dead best friend. Unless, they had been more than friends…

"Steve, I am so sorry, I didn't realize how close you and Bucky were," she said honestly. She should've seen it. She was the trained spy. But she hadn't, and now it all made so much sense. "Can I ask how long…?"

"Not long," he interrupted, knowing where she was going with that question. "We'd been friends forever, then around the time we signed up for the experiment we started seeing each other. But we didn't want our relationship to be used against us in the selection process, so we kept it quiet." He looked over at her, that raw vulnerability on his face that she loved to see. It reminded her that he was really just a teenager under all the muscles and abilities the serum had given him. "I really do like you, Peggy. I don't know if I'm ready though. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I'm willing to wait. We can take things however slow you need."

"You are incredible."

She kissed his cheek, then grabbed her tablet and kicked back. "I know."

…

"So, you and Peggy are a thing now?" Sam asked over comms.

Steve frowned. "Can we focus on the mission, please?"

"Ah, come on, Cap, just answer the question!"

Steve paused as he climbed up the side of the building. He was going to kill Sam for his new code name. Captain America. Even worse, Tony had found out about it, so there was no chance of it ever going away. He made one nationalistic comment and now he was going to be stuck being called Captain for the rest of his life. He really didn't have time to worry about his code name right now though. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him and Sam in to stop the assassination of a Wakandan delegate. Which meant he had to climb up to the delegate's floor, while Sam could just glide up.

"I'm nearly to the window," Steve updated.

"Dude, you and Peggy. Spill."

"Yes, we're dating, I guess. I don't know. It's complicated." He struggled to get something out of his belt with only one hand. He needed the tool Tony had created to drill through glass easily. He had a feeling the delegate wasn't going to just pop open the window for him.

"How's it complicated? Are you dating or not?"

"Well, she's technically my boss, so yeah, it's complicated." The glass fell in and Steve swung through the opening, landing lightly on his toes. "I'm in. Where are you?"

"Right behind you." Steve turned just it time to see Sam tuck in his wings and dive through the hole. He rolled to his feet and rolled his shoulders. "Damn, that hurts. Not that you'd know." He looked around the room. "Where's the dude we're supposed to be protecting?"

Steve tapped the device on his forearm and a holographic layout of the floor appeared. "According to Tony's schematics, there's a large conference room down the hall. Our delegate will probably be there, delivering his daily update to the royal family of Wakanda."

"The royal family's here?!"

"No. Video call. Alright, let's move. I'll get into that room. You should fly around the floor and keep your eyes open. We don't know if this assassination is going to be done close up or by a sniper."

"Yes, sir," Sam said with a salute before jumping back out the window.

Steve shut down the hologram and pulled his shield off his back. Tony, in honor of the new code name, had painted the vibranium shield red, white, and blue, with a gaudy star in the center. So much for stealth. There wasn't anything Steve could do about it now, though, so he simply grimaced at the shield and moved into the hallway. All the security must have been in the room with the delegate, because Steve didn't encounter anyone. Growing more wary by the second, he pushed open the door to the room.

"Freeze!" about five different men said, pointing guns at Steve's chest. They had distinct Wakandan accents.

He put his hands up. "I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.! I'm here to keep the emissary safe! We received a tip that someone is going to try to assassinate him today!"

"Drop your weapon!"

Steve was growing frustrated, but he disengaged the magnets and the shield fell to the ground. "Please, I'm here to help, the emissary is in danger!" he pleaded.

They paid him no mind. A guard grabbed the shield and examined it. He looked suspiciously at Steve. "Where did you get so much vibranium?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. gave it to me," he answered tersely, then looked over at the delegate. Two of the guards had surrounded him protectively, but he still made eye contact with Steve. "Please, sir, you need to go somewhere safe. I don't know who or where the assassin is, but you are in immediate danger!"

Steve's comm crackled on. "Cap, I see the sniper, he's on the opposite roof! I'm too far away, I can't get to him in time!"

"Get down!" Steve yelled, and then the room went up in flames. The blast threw him back and he slammed into the wall. His head spun and the smoke made his eyes water. He brushed off the debris that had fallen on him and staggered to his feet. "No…"

The delegate and all the guards had died. They'd been closer to the windows and they didn't have his durability. Coughing, Steve retrieved his shield from where it had fallen on the ground beside the dead guard. As the ringing in his ears cleared, he could hear Sam on the comms.

"—Cap, come in. Cap, report in. Steve, are you okay?!"

"I'm alive. The delegate's dead. Where's the sniper?" he asked, voice breaking. His throat burned from smoke inhalation.

"Moving quickly across the rooftops. I have my eyes on him, but I'm losing speed. I think my wings got damaged, I was too close to the blast."

Steve closed his eyes for a second. "Okay, I'm in pursuit. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point." He backed up, then made a running leap out of the burning floor. For a second he felt like he was hanging in midair with hundreds of feet to the pavement far below. Then he hit the next rooftop as he used his shield to break his fall. He broke into a run as he spotted a distant figure also running along the roofs of the sky scrapers. That had to be the sniper. And he was _fast._ Even in a dead sprint Steve was having trouble catching up to him, and he could outrun cars. The sniper had to be enhanced.

Steve was catching up to him. He poured all of his remaining energy into one last burst of speed, then tackled him. They went tumbling painfully across the rooftop, the large gun clattering out of the sniper's hands and skidding away. Steve got up and faced the sniper, shield raised.

The sniper clambered to his feet and turned around. Steve's breath caught.

"Bucky?"

It was him. Steve would recognize him anywhere, in any life or any time. It didn't matter that his hair was overgrown or that his arm appeared to be made of metal. It was Bucky. His brain stopped working, he froze in place. He didn't move fast enough when Bucky abruptly turned and jumped off the side of the roof. He ran to the edge of the roof and looked down, but he didn't see anything. No ledge, no dead body on the sidewalk, not a sign of Bucky. He stood and stared, his mind moving sluggishly.

"Steve? Steve, where are you? Should I send back-up?" Sam's worried voice came over the comm.

"...No. I'm coming to you now," Steve said, slinging his shield onto his back.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Just have the Quinjet ready to go." He started walking. "I need to talk to Tony."

…

"Steve, talk to me, buddy," Sam said, hurrying after his best friend.

Steve didn't talk. Nor did he slow down or even acknowledge Sam. He just slammed through the front doors of the Facility and kept walking. He'd been silent on the short Quinjet ride over from New York City. His behavior was starting to alarm Sam.

"Come on, what's the rush?"

No answer still. They reached the common room. Tony was sitting at the island, a disassembled robot scattered in front of him as he ate a bag of blueberries. Peggy and Coulson were sitting on the couches, working on S.H.I.E.L.D. files. Steve could see that Rhodey and Pepper were somewhere in the building from a security monitor Tony was watching.

"Steve, you're back!" Peggy said brightly, smiling over at her boyfriend. "Hi, Sam. How'd the mission go?" Her smile slipped as she saw how serious Steve was. "What's wrong? Was the delegate killed?"

"Bucky's alive," he said flatly.

There was a metallic clatter as Tony knocked some of his gears off the island in surprise. Peggy looked at Coulson. The senior agent leaned forward and shook his head.

"That's not possible," Coulson said blatantly. "You saw the video. Barnes was severely wounded. The Commandos weren't able to get him out, and then the building blew. People can't survive that, Steve. You know this."

"I just saw him. He killed the emissary."

Sam threw his hands up. "Wait, hold up. The sniper? The guy that just killed about five or more Wakandans? That was your dead best friend?"

Steve raked a hand through his hair. "Yes and no. It was Bucky, but he would never do this. Someone must be controlling him, or using him. I don't know. All I know is that he is alive, and I have to find him."

"Did you hit your head, Rogers?" Tony demanded. "We watched the footage together. Barnes is dead. This must have been a look alike, or whatever group targeted the emissary knew that you had a soft spot for Barnes and are just messing with you. He got away, didn't he? It could have been a ploy."

"How would anyone know Steve even knew Bucky? S.H.I.E.L.D. is huge. It's not like all agents know each other," Sam said.

"It's all in his files," the genius said with a shrug.

Coulson looked at Tony with a disbelieving expression. "You hacked S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files?"

"Maybe a little. To be fair, I then upgraded them in return."

"Look, I don't care what theories you want to concoct to explain away what happened, but Bucky is out there, and I need to find him!" Steve snapped.

Peggy stood up and walked over to him. She moved like one would towards a frightened animal. Slowly, soothingly. Steve froze in the middle of his pacing as her small fingers touched his face. She turned his head so that he was looking her in the eyes. Her other hand rested on his chest.

"I believe you," she said simply. All the anger and energy seemed to melt out of Steve.

"You're just going to take his word for it that his friend is back from the grave?" Tony said in disbelief.

"He has no reason to lie about this, so yes, I believe him. Are you going to help us with this, Tony, or are you going to an arse?" Peggy asked with a pointed stare.

The genius folded his arms, looking upset. "I'll help."

…

"There," Tony said triumphantly, gesturing to his computer screen. "That program is going to use every camera, phone, computer, and tablet in the world to find Barnes using facial recognition. It might take a while to find him, but this should help in your insane search considerably."

"Yes, it should," Steve murmured, then looked at the teen. "Thanks, Tony. This means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of my garage, I'll tell you if there's a match."

Steve grinned and shoved away from the screen. It was already going through billions of faces, trying to find a needle in a haystack. It was driving Steve crazy to stay in the Facility and not go running after Bucky, but he knew that this program would be his best bet. For that, he could wait. He turned to leave the garage and give Tony some peace. Steve had been down here nearly day and night while Tony set up the program.

"Oh, actually, one sec, Cap," he said suddenly.

Steve turned around. Tony was folding a file out to him. "What's this?"

"Well, since I read—"

"Stole."

"— _stole_ your file from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database, I thought it would only be fair if you read mine. So there you go. All the juicy gossip is in there."

Steve was aghast. "I shouldn't read that. That has a ton of personal information. It's an invasion of privacy."

Tony rolled his eyes and groaned. "Stop being Mr. Perfect for a minute and take the goddamn file. I know what I'm offering you. I know all about you, you know all about me, we're square. Simple. Anyways, since we're going to be stuck living together for the conceivable future, you might as well understand where some of my less appealing qualities and habits come from."

"Fine," he conceded, accepting the file. "Thanks again, Tony."


	5. Chapter 5 (Interlude)

Steve ran out of his room. His footsteps echoed as he zoomed down the hall and used the wall to help him turn sharply to jump down the stairs. The door to the garage was wide open, so he didn't bother with knocking even if he knew it would upset Tony. Fighting with the genius was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

"What the hell, Roger?!" Tony yelled when he saw Steve barge in. "I'm working! Just because I forgot to shut the goddamn door doesn't mean you're welcome in here!" Then he noticed the panic on the super-soldier's face. "What? What's wrong?"

"A plane's landing in the field right now," he said, a slight panic in his voice.

"So? S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel come all the time," Tony pointed out. "It could be Rhodey for all we know, they don't need to make a formal announcement."

"The jet isn't one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s."

Tony swore and started pulling off the safety equipment he was wearing. Steve walked over to the wall of monitors Tony had in his garage, which displayed the footage from every security camera on the Facility grounds. He quickly located the screen showing the airfield. Sure enough, a foreign craft was setting down right then. His brow furrowed. S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't shot them down, or attempted to stop the craft in any way. This was a top secret base. Even the White House didn't know its exact location. Steve couldn't think of who the plane could possible belong to.

"Alright, let's go check out these new guests," Tony said, grabbing two odd looking bracelets and slapping them on.

"What are those?" Steve asked.

"A little trick up my sleeve. A project I've been working on. Hopefully we won't need to use it, but I wouldn't mind testing it out."

Steve really did not like the sound of that, but there was no arguing with Tony when it came to his toys. Even Pepper couldn't win those fights. Steve just said, "Contact Coulson or Peggy if you can on the way. We may need some rank right now. Or back up. Hopefully the former."

Tony nodded and hit a button on his computer. Steve really hoped that meant that they were on their way. They hopped in the closest car in the garage and sped towards the airfield. They needed to go greet their unexpected guests.

The ramp to the plane was opening just as they arrived. They stood back and waited as a few people exited the plane, walking steadily forward. It was abundantly clear that two of them were armed as they carried actual spears. They seemed to be the guards because they flanked the other two people. As they drew closer, Steve was able to tell that the two guards were female, and their charges were a teenager boy and a girl who couldn't have been more than seven. He was careful to keep his confusion off of his face. He still didn't know why these people were there.

"Are you the man who tried to stop the assassination of the Wakandan emissary in New York yesterday?" the teenager asked in a distinct accent Steve couldn't place when he drew close to the two Avengers. Steve wished he'd grabbed his shield when he saw how alert the guards were. They looked ready to impale him without hesitation, or possibly without orders.

"I'm sorry, random dude who is intruding in a top secret base, who the hell are you?" Tony said. A muscle protruded in Steve's jaw. He'd much rather have Sam or Peggy with him right now. They were much better at diplomacy. Tony liked to shoot first, ask questions later.

"I am Prince T'Challa of Wakanda," he said coldly, meeting Tony's eyes.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry, but we weren't told you would be coming," Steve interrupted before Tony could open his mouth again. "Until we have permission from the Triskelion, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I am not going anywhere until I speak to the person who was at the Wakandan embassy yesterday on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders," the Prince said simply, but with an undertone of finality. "Not while the families of the dead do not know how their loved one died on US soil, with a government agent at hand."

When he put it like that, it sounded really bad. Especially to Steve, who was the apparently the reason visiting royalty were invading the Facility, because they wanted to question, more likely punish, the man involved. The man who hadn't prevented all those casualties.

"Your Highness," a voice suddenly called out. Steve turned to see Coulson and Sam hopping out of a car and hurrying towards the Wakandans. "Why don't you come inside so that we can answer any questions your country has about the deaths of your people?"

The Prince didn't answer. He said something to the little girl in a language Steve didn't recognize. Then the entire Wakandan retinue breezed past Coulson, heading towards the Facility. The Agent didn't offer the two Avengers any explanation for what was happening. He just followed the visitors. Steve sighed and did the same.

…

"Here's everything S.H.I.E.L.D. knows about the attack on the Wakandan delegation yesterday," Coulson said, gesturing to a holographic screen. All the official reports, including Steve and Sam's, from the mission, rolled by.

Steve and Sam sat next to each other, both keeping a careful eye on their guests. Prince T'Challa was sitting near them, one of his guards standing solemnly behind him. The little girl and the second guard were somewhere in the Facility. Apparently she was the Princess of Wakanda, but Steve hadn't caught her name. Her brother hadn't wanted her to be in the room when he talked to Coulson, so Coulson had given her permission to explore the grounds. Steve didn't know if that was the smartest move, but it wasn't like they could afford to upset the Wakandans any more than they already seemed to have.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. received an anonymous tip from one of our many sources," Coulson said, fully in business mode. "Director Fury sanctioned the mission to stop the assassination, sending in one team and one Avenger for back up. That was Steve Rogers."

The Prince looked over at the teen sharply. "You were there? Why didn't you stop the attack?"

"Hey, it wasn't his fault!" Sam snapped defensively. "He tried to evacuate the delegation, but they wouldn't believe him!"

"That's enough, Agent Wilson," Coulson said firmly. Sam slumped back, looking cross.

"No, it's a fair question," Steve said, turning to T'Challa. "I got there right before the attack. I tried to get them to believe me, but there was no time. Sam warned me of the sniper right before the building exploded. I tried to pursue, but…" He faltered.

"But what?" the Prince snapped.

"The assassin turned out to be a former S.H.I.E.L.D. operative named James Buchanan Barnes," Coulson interceded, shooting Steve a look that clearly said to stay out of this. "We believe he may have been forced to carry out the attack yesterday. Our organization is already working on tracking down Barnes and getting to the bottom of this. Rest assured, if Barnes did willingly carry out this attack the US will turn him over to Wakanda for trial and punishment."

Steve clenched his fists. He didn't know if Coulson actually believed that Bucky was alive, or if he was just saying that to placate the Prince, but he knew that no way in hell was he going to let Bucky be punished for a crime he would never willingly commit. Someone had to be controlling him. It was the only explanation that made sense.

"There's no need," T'Challa said, standing and raising his chin. "Wakanda will take over the investigation on the attack, including looking for the assassin."

Coulson stepped forward, clearly stunned. "The attack took place on US soil and the suspect for the attack is a former government employee. We will most certainly not be turning over the entire investigation to you."

"I wasn't asking, Agent. I'm on orders from King T'Chaka, and I have every right to handle this situation, without US interference."

"I don't think you understand what you're walking into."

The Prince fixed Coulson with a stare. "Stay out of this. Wakandans are dead, and my people need to see the man responsible punished. Okoye, get Shuri. We are leaving."

"Yes, Your Highness," his guard said. They left the room.

Steve jumped up. "Are we just letting them go? They want to kill Bucky!"

"We are letting them go," Coulson said, then as Steve opened his mouth quickly added, "but we are not dropping the investigation. I know Tony already set up the software. They don't know that, so we keep going. With all our equipment, we're guaranteed to find Barnes first. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. will conduct its own interrogation. I can't promise any more than that."

"But—" he complained.

Sam dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Steve. That's all Coulson can do."

He swallowed and nodded. He shouldn't take his anger out on Coulson. The agent was just doing his job, nothing more. He would have to accept this arrangement for now, then work something out later if he needed to. Finding was Bucky was all he needed to worry about right now.

"Good. I need to return to HQ. Director Fury is going to want an in-person report for this one," Coulson said. "Sam, stay here. I'll call for you if I need you."

Sam rubbed his face and collapsed on the chair as Coulson left next. "We are in shit ton of trouble right now."

Steve just grimaced.

…

Tony screwed in the bolt with a little unnecessary force. His tray of tools rattled when he tossed his screwdriver onto it roughly. He was pissed that Coulson hadn't let him stay and talk with the Wakandans. They were the ones who had intruded on his property, not the other way around. He deserved to be up there with Steve. But no, instead he'd had to retreat down to his garage, and was trying to ignore the fact he was pissed by working on one of his cars.

His scowl deepened when he looked at his monitor and saw them all up in the living room. Coulson was using the tech Tony had designed to show the Prince something. He huffed and turned back to the car. He wished he'd installed an audio feed along with the cameras. He'd decided against it because he figured there'd probably be more kids here eventually and he wouldn't want to listen to their screaming, but now he was regretting that. He hadn't anticipated needing to eavesdrop in his own house.

He dropped his wrench as there was a sudden rhythmic knock on the glass door to the garage. What the hell was that? Everyone was upstairs without him, he'd just checked the cameras. He walked around the car cautiously, the wrench clenched in his hand like a club. He let out a little breathy laugh as he saw the little Princess of Wakanda waiting patiently at the door, one disgruntled looking guard behind her. On impulse, he walked over and opened it.

"Yes? Are you selling Girl Scout cookies? Cause if not, I'm not very interested," Tony drawled.

"What are those?" she asked, pointing at the far wall, where his Iron Man suits were displayed.

"My big boy toys."

"Can I see them? I'm working on a prosthetic limb replacement right now, and those look like they have a similar design," she said.

Tony blinked in surprise. "Sure. Knock yourself out, kid."

She bounced inside. "My name is Shuri."

"I use kid affectionately, don't worry." The guard walked past Tony brusquely, following the Princess. He stuck out his tongue at her back. Shuri giggled, but by the time the guard turned around, he was the picture of faked innocence.

Shuri started examining the suits. Tony leaned against one of his worktables and watched her carefully. His suits could be sensitive sometimes, and it would be really bad if the Princess of Wakanda was injured by one of his inventions. But she was obviously extremely smart. Her small fingers deftly peeked under the panels and then set them back perfectly. Occasionally she would pause, like she was making a mental note. She asked a question about the technique and function of a couple bits, but overall she seemed to understand the inner workings of his incredibly advanced suits on her own. He had to admit, he was impressed.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Seven. How old are you?" she retorted, smirking at him.

"Thirteen."

"And you made these yourself?"

"Yep. Why? Got any suggestions?"

She considered for a moment. "It would be cool if it could be worn without being seen. Like it could fold into a necklace or something small and not noticeable."

"That would be, but I'm wouldn't have much use for something like that. If I need my suit, I go in guns blazing. Nothing incognito about it."

"Maybe just one of the hand shooty thingies then. So you could always have a weapon on you, even when you don't need the whole suit," she explained.

Tony considered it. "That would actually be very cool. I need to get started on that."

"I know," she said confidently. He laughed, delighted by her brains and her attitude. He could already tell she was going places.

The guard suddenly spoke up. "Time to go, Princess."

Shuri pouted. "Fine. T'Challa always ruins my fun. Bye, white boy!" With that the little Princess left. Tony didn't stop smiling for an hour.


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't think you should sign up for this experiment, Bruce."

He laughed. "Why not? I need the money, or else I'm going to have to go back to high school. Or get another scholarship, but those aren't exactly a dime a dozen, even when you are a genius."

Betty frowned and picked at her food. It was a bright sunny day at the Culver University campus, and the two freshmen were eating lunch in one of the beautiful courtyards. Bruce was trying to enjoy the warmth after months of freezing cold winter. Sure, it was still February, but Bruce would take what he could get. Betty was making that very hard though, since she kept bugging him about the experiment ever since he told her he signed up for it.

"I don't think it's safe," Betty said, looking at him pleadingly. "There's a reason we use rats and not people in experiments. What if something goes wrong, what if you get hurt, or worse?"

"Come on, Betty, don't you trust me?" he asked her imploringly, his brown eyes boring into hers.

"Of course I do." She sounded offended that he even had to ask.

"I'm confident that this experiment will be safe. I've seen the calculations myself and I've checked the math. It's only a one time session. If it doesn't work, then game over, I'm free to go and I'll have a very nice paycheck. If it does work, just imagine the good we could do for the world. It would revolutionize science."

She didn't look convinced. "I don't know. Something seems wrong with all of this."

Bruce sighed and pushed his glasses up. "You're being ridiculous. Your own father is endorsing this experiment—"

"And that's part of why I'm worried!"

Bruce looked at her in bewilderment. She sighed and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. They'd known each other a very long time. They'd met in high school, when she was a junior and he was a freshman. He'd been younger than everyone else in his grade, and in junior and senior level classes to boot. She'd been the only one to befriend him. He'd skipped another two grades so that they could go to college together. In all that time, she'd always been soft spoken and easygoing. So her sudden outburst was startling.

"Look, I never really wanted to tell you this, but my father doesn't really like you," Betty admitted. "And I'm starting to think that he asked you to do this to try and get rid of you."

Bruce burst into laughter. "You're being ridiculous. Even if your father doesn't like me, he wouldn't try and kill me, or harm me."

"I'm being serious! And you don't know the things my father has done."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have I ever told you what my father's job is?"

"You said he's in government."

She grimaced. "I did. And he is. Just, he's kind of the Lieutenant General of the Army."

"Why did you _not_ tell me that?" Bruce demanded, looking at her in shock, and bit of betrayal. The didn't keep secrets from each other. Not secrets that big.

"I wanted to!"

"Oh, God, Betty, really? You wanted to?" he mocked in a bitter tone, rubbing his temples.

She bit her lip. "Okay, I know it sounds bad like that. But I'm being serious. I think my dad honestly has something out for you, and he's taken out his enemies before. I'm worried, Bruce. Please tell me you won't do this experiment."

He shook his head. "No. I signed up, I'm committed, and I believe in this experiment. I'm doing it. I'll see you tomorrow." He grabbed his backpack and got up.

"Bruce, wait!" she cried desperately, but he didn't stop.

…

"There we go, all strapped in," the intern said, then grinned at Bruce. "All ready to go, Banner?"

"All set. Thanks. You better get out of here before it starts," Bruce said. His arms and legs were strapped down to the chair. The room was white, sterile, and had expensive equipment scattered about. A needle was already in Bruce's arm, injecting him with a special serum to help with the experiment.

"Good luck," the intern said, entering the adjoining room.

Bruce looked through the window before him. He could see the scientists, the intern, and Ross, Betty's father, watching him from where they were all sitting at the control panels. He also saw Betty standing off to the side, her hands over her mouth. She was worried. Bruce wasn't, though. He had full confidence in this experiment. They were working on creating a solution to gamma radiation poisoning. It could save lives. He couldn't understand was Betty was acting like this. This was an incredible opportunity, especially for a fourteen year old college freshman.

"Dr. Banner, are you ready to start?" Ross asked over the intercom.

Bruce gave the thumbs up, which was a bit difficult with his hands restrained. He saw the scientists begin pushing buttons. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what this would feel like. It had never been done before. It might hurt, it might feel nice, it might feel like nothing.

The chair started tilting. Bruce opened his eyes. The laser was moving across his face, lining up with his eye. Preparing for the non-lethal dose of gamma radiation. He'd been taking injections for a month now, preparing for this moment. Hopefully it would pay off.

"Start."

Nothing at first. Bruce relaxed. Betty had been worried for nothing. Everything was fine. Of course it was, Bruce had expected that. But he had to admit, now that it was clear everything was fine, that Betty's words had stuck with him. A small kernel of worry had crept in, but he'd stubbornly ignored it. And for good reason it seemed.

That's when the pain started.

A searing pain. Bruce thrashed, but he couldn't move. He felt like he was being pulled apart and poison was burning through his veins instead of blood. He heard shouting, and lights flashed across his eyes. He fisted his hand and tugged, breaking the restraints. He needed help, because something was wrong, something was very,very wrong, and it hurt so goddamn much…

…

Hulk did not like the puny restraints. He pulled them off with a small tug and got up from the smushed seat. He frowned as his head hit the ceiling. Stupid. Hulk did not like the small space where he couldn't even stand. He stuck his hand through the wall and tore. He wanted air and space to run.

He felt sharp stings on his back. Growling, he turned around. Tiny, little men-things were shooting at him with their little toy guns. He dealt with them with a sweep of his hand. They splattered against the walls and dropped. They were weak. Hulk was strong. They had annoyed him though. He growled and started towards the opening in the wall again.

He turned and roared as he felt someone shooting at his head. It stung. It was that man Banner didn't like, the Ross man. He was hiding like a coward behind the crushed wall, shooting at him with a bigger gun. Hulk swatted him aside too. No more flies. He had lost patience.

Someone screamed in horror. Hulk turned around. It was the pretty one, Betty. He felt Banner in him, trying to surface. Hulk shoved him down. Hulk wanted to play before he let boring Banner come back. But he liked the Betty girl. He stepped towards her and reached out. She shrieked and backed away. The noise hurt Hulk's ears. He stumbled away, his hand accidentally hitting her. Hulk stumbled and rammed through the walls. He breathed in fresh air. But he didn't see open space. There were buildings, towering over him, cramped streets crowded with the little toy cars. He didn't like it. He wanted wide open spaces with no men-people and their toys that stung.

So he ran.

…

Bruce couldn't remember why he woke up in a cave. Or why he was half naked, his pants nearly shredded away. In fact, the young scientist couldn't remember much of anything. Just the experiment, the chair, the laser, and then the pain.

Oh, God. What had happened to him?

Bruce sat up and took stock of himself. His shirt, shoes, and socks were gone, but most of his pants were still hanging on. They were shredded along the bottom and stretched out everywhere else. He was freezing. The cave still had icicles dripping from the ceiling. Strangely, he felt no pain, not even soreness. That made no sense. He remembered being in agony down at the lab.

The lab. The experiment. The thing that had taken over his body. He remembered now. Betty had been right. Because looking back, Bruce could see it. He'd been lied to, it had been a front to get him to volunteer for an incredibly dangerous experiment. They'd used way more radiation than they'd shown Bruce in the numbers. And he had believed them, because he'd gotten caught up in the idea of making some money and becoming part of a revolutionary experiment. Well, it certainly had been revolutionary. But if Ross valued his life and his job he'd make sure that no one found out about what had happened that night. About the monster he'd created.

Bruce had hurt people. He hadn't meant to, he hadn't _wanted_ to. But, that _thing,_ that other guy had done it. Bruce had to go, to find out if he'd killed anyone. Betty had been in that room. He didn't know what had happened to her. He needed to go find out.

Bruce left the cave and ran back towards civilization, towards Culver University.

…

"What happened here?"

"It looks like a bomb went off."

"Don't be stupid, there's no burn marks. Looks more like a wrecking ball or something smashed the lab."

"Isn't this part of the Bio-Science division? What on Earth were they doing in there?"

"Who knows, man? No one can even get close with all these police swarming the place."

"I guess we'll have to wait for the school paper to come out. Ah, well. Let's go grab some lunch."

Bruce hung back and listened in on the conversations. Everyone who had come to check out the ruins of the lab were having similar conversations. The police had cordoned the area off, citing safety concerns. Wild rumors were already flying across campus about what had happened there last night. There were only two known survivors. Betty and Thaddeus Ross, both now in the hospital. But alive. That was all Bruce cared about. Betty was alive. Even if not everyone else was.

He had to go see her. He had to see for himself. Making sure his hood and sunglasses obscured most of his face, he turned to catch a taxi. It was a good thing he had stopped by his dorm to grab clothes and his wallet. Right now, he had to stay in the shadows. If Ross was conscious, he probably had law enforcement looking for Bruce right now, or the monster he'd become. But Bruce didn't when the monster would come back out. He could feel it roiling beneath his skin, ready to lash out. He couldn't risk that. Not in the middle of the city.

…

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to get up to Betty's hospital room. He simply requested to visit her and they brought him right up. He was suspicious, but the allure of seeing Betty alive with his own two eyes was too appealing to turn down. He practically ran to her bedside. His footsteps slowed when he saw that Betty already had a visitor, sitting on the couch against the wall.

"Mr. Banner," Ross said. "I wasn't sure if we'd be seeing you again."

Bruce froze, his throat closing up. Ross had a large bandage on his forehead, and one of his arms was in a sling. Despite that, he looked just as intimidating and strong as always. And pissed. Very, very pissed.

"Betty's expected to recover, in case you care," Ross said flatly. Bruce couldn't help but look over at the hospital bed. She was pretty banged up, her legs wrapped in casts, various cuts visible on her arms and face. She was hooked up to oxygen and was very unconscious. Probably sedated for the pain. "The doctors aren't sure how well her legs will heal. A section of the ceiling fell on her. It will take a while before the casts can come off, and then there will be physical therapy. I'm just thanking God that it wasn't her head that was crushed."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said softly. He wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for, for hurting Betty, or for the whole situation. Maybe both.

"I shouldn't have let her stay in the room. I knew the experiment was dangerous, but she was so insistent… she was worried about your safety. She always worried about you. Too much, in my opinion. And now she's the one laying in the hospital bed. Where's the fairness in that?" Ross asked bitterly. He met Bruce's eyes. "I can help you. I can get you somewhere safe, where you can't hurt yourself or other people."

Bruce backed up. "No. No way," he said vehemently. "You lied to me about the experiment. We weren't trying to cure gamma poisoning, were we? You were trying to make a super-soldier, that's what the infusion was about. Did you think radiation was the key to unlocking the formula? I could have told you that wouldn't work."

Ross's lips thinned. "I'm trying to help you. Or do you want more people to get hurt, innocent people, like my daughter?"

"Don't turn this back on me. I may be a monster, but I wasn't the one who made the monster. That was you."

"You're wrong, Banner. _You_ made this monster. _Your_ theories and _your_ calculations were the basis for the entire experiment. You shaped every single phase of the experiment. You really are a genius." Ross stood up and moved closer.

"Don't," he warned the General, backing up even further. His heart was thumping, worry coursing through his veins, and something else. He felt the other guy coiling under his skin. His control was slipping away second by the second and he was too close to Betty. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Banner, come with me peacefully, and all of this will be worked out."

Bruce's back hit the wall. His heart thudded even faster as he realized he was trapped, and Ross was still coming closer. His eyes flickered to Ross's hand, which pressed something in his pocket. He was calling back up. He'd known Bruce would come for Betty, he'd been waiting here, with reinforcement just a click away. Bruce was an idiot for coming, he'd fallen right into Ross's trap. Tension crackled through the air, then hit a breaking point as Ross lunged forward.

The transformation was just as painful the second time. It only took seconds for Bruce to be entirely replaced by the giant, hulking green monster from the night before.

Hulk opened his eyes. The Ross man was backing up in fear now, which pleased Hulk. But the Betty girl was still too close. Hulk felt bad for hurting her. He hadn't meant to. He punched through the wall and started climbing up the building. The bricks and glass crumbled under his fingers. Hulk grunted in annoyance as a helicopter buzzed around his head and a loud noise emanated from it. He kept climbing, all the way up to the top. He roared as another helicopter joined the first. They both started shooting at him. This time instead of their puny bullets they used big darts, but they only served to piss off the Hulk.

He turned and ran across the rooftop, the sharp darts poking him. He leapt off the building, jumping over city blocks and cracking the pavement under his feet as he landed. Then he ran.

And ran.

And ran.

…

Bruce groaned and shivered. He moved to rub his arms to try and get some warmth back in them, then sat up groggily as he felt leaves and something wet on himself. He looked around in confusion. Somehow, he was sitting in the woods, covered in a layer of snow and leaves. His shirt, socks and shoes were gone, and his pants were nearly gone.

"Oh no," he said, clutching his head. He'd transformed. His memory was foggy, but he knew. Birds started chirping overhead, and the sun was just rising over tall peaks. Bruce stood, leaves raining off of him, and stepped towards the peaks. They looked so familiar. "There's no way."

He was at his grandfather's old cabin. He used to come up here every summer with his parents before his grandfather died three years ago. The cabin still belonged to his parents, but with all the work Bruce had been putting into school to get into college early, their family hadn't come up here in a long time. He turned around, and sure enough, a short hike away, he saw the log cabin, buried in a layer of snow. Shivering, Bruce trudged slowly to the cabin.

Amazingly, the door was unlocked, so he was able to go right in. Everything was the same, simple and rustic, with a little kitchenette and living room area. There were only two small bedrooms and one bathroom. Bruce had always slept on the couch, under the thick quilted blanket… yes. It was still there. He greedily grabbed the warm blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, sighing in relief. He was still freezing and soaked, but it was better than being out in the cold.

He took a burning hot shower and changed into some of the spare clothes his father had left up here. They were a size too big, but they were dry. That was all Bruce cared about right now. That, and some hot food. Now that he stopped to think about it, he hadn't eaten any food that he could remember since before the experiment, and he was starving. He heated up some canned soup on the old stove that took a moment to light.

After eating and waiting to regain some feeling in his fingers, Bruce got to work.

He bundled up in some thick coats and old boots, then trudged back outside. There was a smaller shed behind the cabin that they'd used for storage, and Bruce distinctly remembered stashing one or two of his older computers in there a couple years ago, for when he came up here. He would need them now. It only took him a short time to set them up and start doing some research.

The headlines filled in his missing memory quite easily. _Attack at Culver Hospital, Monster Sighted on Culver Campus, Military Operation Gone Wrong: Destruction at Culver._ He rubbed his forehead in increasing distress as he read about how much damage he—the other guy—had caused. Tons of damage to the hospital itself, the destruction of military helicopters, and five known deaths. It could have been a lot worse, but he was still horrified. And he was disgusted to admit that he was beyond glad that Betty Ross wasn't listed among the deceased.

His hands were shaking when he shut the computer. His head dropped into his hands as the full impact of the last two days came crashing down on him. There was a monster in him...no, no, he _was_ the monster. It was hard to describe, but the thing he became was a part of him. When it took over his body he was still there somewhere. That's how the monster had known to come here, to this cabin in the middle of nowhere, because Bruce had known it was a safe place. Which meant Bruce was to blame for the deaths at the lab, and now at the hospital. Ten people. Ten people whose blood was on his hands.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself. There was no answer, not even a gust of wind that he could have been taken as an omen. Only silence. Tears poured down his face, but he hardly noticed.

He took a shaky breath and straightened up. "Stop. Crying doesn't help anyone." He stood up and wiped his tears. He needed to stop pitying himself and start working. He was a scientist. He had a problem. All he had to do was come up with an experiment, some way to test solutions to his problem, in a safe, casualty-free environment. Luckily his grandfather had been very anti-social and there were no people for miles around. He had a work space. Which meant all he had to do was design the experiment.

…

He spent a month running controlled tests.

He knew certain things from the news reports and the distorted memories in his head about the monster, the thing the media had dubbed the Hulk. He found it somewhat humorous that the monster had called itself that too. He knew the Hulk was strong, large, fast, durable, and possibly impervious to injury. That couldn't be true, but the weapons hadn't even punctured the skin of the Hulk. Maybe they just weren't strong enough. Bruce would have to acquire a rocket launcher to test that theory, so it was mere speculation.

So he understood the Hulk. What he didn't understand was what triggered the transformation.

Initially, the injection and combination of gamma radiation had caused the transformation. The second time had been spontaneous, as far as Bruce could remember. Unless it had been the threat of danger, or maybe the heat of emotions.

The first was easy to test. Bruce got one of his grandfather's hunting rifles out of the shed and shot at his own foot, a first aid kit at the ready in case he was horribly wrong about that. He transformed before the bullet could even hit his foot. It took hours to transform back. From what he could tell, transforming back only happened once the Hulk calmed down, which often took a while. Bruce didn't care. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be, anywhere he could go without endangering people. He didn't want any more blood on his hands.

Making himself angry was surprisingly hard. He'd always been mellow, which Betty had often teased him about. He avoided fights simply because he found them unnecessary, and he had very few strong opinions. So when he needed to find a way to make himself angry, all alone in a warm cabin, he drew a blank. Thinking about the deaths he'd caused only brought guilt, not anger. Even thinking about confronting Ross brought a sense of justice, not anger.

He completed his experiment completely by accident.

Frustrated with a day of fruitless attempts at understanding the Hulk's biology, from samples of his own blood, he went for a walk in the cold woods. It was a clear day, and the snow was brilliant in the sunlight, but he just craved the fresh air. He stopped down by the frozen lake and sat on a log that was partially buried by snow.

The lake reminded him of the time he went skating with Betty. They'd rented skates and gone down to the local rink to try it out. They'd both never really done it before, and they'd been _horrible_ at first, falling on their butts as six year olds whizzed past them. Betty had gotten the hang of it first, and she'd dragged Bruce along with her until he was confident enough to do it on his own. He'd gotten cocky and tried to impress her by skating backwards. Instead he'd wiped out, sprawled like a starfish on the ice.

She'd hurried over and leaned over him, asking him if he was hurt between laughs. He remembered with clarity how beautiful she had looked, her dark hair tucked into a beanie and her cheeks red from the cold. He'd wanted to lean up and kiss her so badly, but she'd skated away before he could even try, and he'd been left sitting on the ice, watching her.

His heart beat faster as he played out the little fantasy in his head, but in his mind he did kiss her. He didn't hesitate, he just kissed her, and she kissed him back, and it was perfect, it was everything he'd daydreamed about so often. His heart beat faster just thinking about it, and he could feel his cheeks burning, even in the cold…

That's when everything went to hell, of course. He Hulked out right there, and the damn brute took off, as if he sensed he was in danger, walking right into the pond. The ice cracked open right underneath him and sent him spiraling into its icy depths. Bruce was still soaking when he transformed back hours later.

"That solves it," Bruce said to himself later, teeth chattering as he trudged back to the cabin, soaking wet and wishing the transformation hadn't ruined his coat. "Heart rate. It has to be heart rate that triggers it."

He ordered a heart monitor that night, in addition to a new coat, food, and some of the strongest metal that he could afford with the meager funds that he had.

…

It was hopeless.

Bruce tried everything he could think of to control the transformation. He tried yoga, and anger management, and every variation of those that he could come across. But still, when he started getting frustrated over his work, or he heard a distant gunshot, or he had a nightmare about hurting Betty, he transformed. He couldn't make it a week without transforming. It hurt every time, to have his bones stretch, his body change, to be shoved out his head and lose control. He was growing more desperate and hopeless by the day. There was no one to turn to, no one who could help him or even comfort him now.

Not his parents, not Betty, not any of his other friends. He was alone, and he was miserable.

He couldn't remember later when he first noticed the small pistol tucked away in the spare bedroom. Probably during one of his bored wanderings when he peeked through every inch of the cabin. He couldn't remember later when he first thought of picking it up and pulling the trigger. Probably during one of his frustrated rampages that ended with him being exceptionally glad that he'd reinforced the walls so he wouldn't break the cabin.

He did remember picking up the gun finally, it's cold metal nearly stinging his sweaty palm. He remembered going outside and walking towards the pond, which had just barely frozen over again. When he thought about that day later, it was as if he was watching someone else playing him, as if it was someone else who had stared at that pond for an hour before lifting the gun and placing it in his mouth. As if it was someone else who pulled the trigger and sent the bullet shooting for his brain.

It never reached its intended target. He transformed in a split second, and the Hulk spit out the tiny piece of metal with disgust before rampaging around, breaking half the trees nearby before finally receding, leaving one exhausted Bruce Banner in his place.

…

New plan, since the others had drastically failed. The Hulk couldn't be controlled, or at least, not without more help. And Bruce had confirmed quite thoroughly that there was no easy way out of this mess. He tried not to dwell on that day by the pond to much. So Bruce moved on. He started researching, trying to find if there was anything out there like him. He'd been reading news stories about powered people popping up. A girl with mental powers, someone faster than light, and a seemingly indestructible assassin. Nothing matching his own abnormalities, but he kept looking.

A lead came up surprisingly fast. While researching these powered people, both current and in the past, the same name kept popping up. S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn't recognize the acronym at first, so he did some research. Apparently they were a group that worked for the US, sort of an offshoot of the CIA or FBI from what Bruce could tell. There was alarmingly little information available about what the department actually did. They dealt with world security. He found that description vague and suspicious.

Why hadn't he ever heard of an entire branch of the US government before? What exactly did they do, and what relation did they have with these enhanced people? All the articles he heard would say was that the situation was dealt with by S.H.I.E.L.D. But how? What did they do when they found those powered people? Did they help them, capture them, or kill them? He didn't know, and it drove him crazy.

"You can do this, Bruce," he murmured to himself as he tunneled through endless sites and sketchy chatrooms to try and get information about S.H.I.E.L.D.

Slowly, he started to piece together a picture. There was a pattern. Something strange, like a UFO sighting or a meteor landing, happened. S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived at the scene. The public was turned away. The organization swept all traces of the events away. Some people even described S.H.I.E.L.D. taking the personal belongings of people involved with the event, like the scientific journals of the people who studied the meteorite.

Bruce understood that part. What he wanted to know was what happened _next,_ outside of the public eye. There was a lot less information on that, which was saying something.

…

Bruce was exhausted. He'd accidentally fallen asleep on the couch, his computer still whirring on the coffee table in front of him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. It was early morning, judging by the dim light filtering in through the halfway closed blinds. He wasn't sure what had woken him up. He couldn't have done it himself, he was too exhausted. He knew he wouldn't have woken up for hours on his own. Not even a bird was chirping.

Then he heard it. Two quick raps on the door. _Knock, knock._ Bruce fell off the couch in surprise. He had to have imagined that, there was no way someone was here. He was in the middle of nowhere, and no one should know that he was here. It was much too early for it be one of his deliveries, and anyways, he wasn't expecting anything today. But then there was another knock.

Bruce grabbed his glasses and slipped them on, standing slowly, his eyes fixed on the door. He moved forward as silently as he could, grabbing the small gun he kept by the door and held it behind his back. Cautiously, he opened the door a crack.

"Good morning, Mr. Banner," a man in a suit said cheerfully, a serene smile on his face. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm just here to ask some questions regarding your sudden interest in our organization."

Bruce blinked slowly. His half-asleep and entirely exhausted brain took a moment to compute what the man was saying. He was from S.H.I.E.L.D. But he hadn't been here to capture Bruce for Ross. He just wanted to know why he'd been researching them. Bruce nearly burst out laughing at how strange the situation was.

Instead he held the door open wider and said, "Come in."

"Thank you," the agent said politely, stepping inside. Bruce shut the door quickly. Coulson raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you expecting someone else?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. Then he noticed Coulson was looking at the gun in his hand. Bruce hurriedly set it down. "No, I wasn't, I, um, I don't really get visitors, so…" he trailed off lamely. "Sorry. I wasn't going to shoot you, I'm just paranoid."

Coulson didn't look convinced. "Are you out here by yourself?"

"My grandfather is out hiking," he said compulsively. His hands were nearly shaking from nerves. When Coulson walked over to the couch, he checked his heart monitor. A little fast, but still safe. He just needed to stay calm.

"You're lying, Mr. Banner. Your grandfather died a few years ago. This used to be his cabin, but now it belongs to your parents, who reported you as missing to the police." Coulson looked at him steadily, his face unreadable.

Bruce was transparent. The shock was written across his face. "How do you know all that?"

"I know a lot about you, Robert Banner," the agent said simply. "I know you were certified a genius when you were five. I know you skipped multiple grades in school, and started attending Culver University just last year. I know you dropped off the face of the earth a few months ago, apparently to come here and start digging into secure S.H.I.E.L.D. files. What I don't know is why. Why the disappearance, why the sudden interest in S.H.I.E.L.D.? I suggest you don't lie to me, Mr. Banner."

He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves. His nerves were growing worse by the second, and he wasn't sure what to tell the agent. He was a terrible liar, but if he told the truth the agent would probably try to take him into custody, and then the Hulk would come out, and Bruce really didn't want that to happen.

"Mr. Banner? I'm waiting."

He took a deep breath. "I started digging into S.H.I.E.L.D. because I think they might be able to help me."

There was no evidence of it on his face, but Bruce could tell his confession had stunned the agent. After a pause, Coulson said, "Why do you need S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help?"

"Because S.H.I.E.L.D. deals with powered people."

"Are you an Inhuman?"

Bruce didn't even recognize the term. It must have to do with powered people. "No. I don't think so. I don't know if I'm human though. Did you see the news reports about the giant green monster at Culver University a few months ago?"

Coulson leaned towards him. "Are you trying to tell me that that was you?"

"Sort of, yes and no," Bruce babbled nervously. "I signed up for an experiment, called the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project. I thought we were trying to find a cure for gamma radiation poisoning. It turns out the US military was trying to make some sort of super-soldier. The experiment went wrong, and now whenever my heart rate peaks or I'm in danger, I transform into a giant green monster. I don't want to hurt anybody, which is why I ran out here."

"There's nobody around for miles."

"Exactly! I've tried controlling it, but I'm not having any luck on my own. So I started doing some research, and I came across S.H.I.E.L.D. Everyone says they turn up when crazy shit happens. Look, I honestly don't know much about S.H.I.E.L.D., but if you have any way of helping me, I'll take it."

Coulson's forehead creased. Bruce tried to control his breathing as the agent stared at him. He felt like an animal behind glass, like a test subject. But he didn't move. This man might be his best bet at getting help. Bruce didn't have many more options.

"I'm going to do something that's probably illegal," Coulson said seriously, looking Bruce in the eyes. "I run a program at S.H.I.E.L.D. called the Avengers Initiative. Its for kids with super abilities, or kids too dangerous to be left on their own."

"Is it a jail?" Bruce asked. Not that it mattered to him. Not if they could help him. He was getting used to isolation.

"No. The idea is to give these kids a chance at some normality, away from anyone who can and would try to hurt them. I'm going to put you in this program. A lot of people are going to object to your presence. I'll deal with them. I'll handle everything. To the rest of the world, Bruce Banner will have disappeared. All you'll need to worry about is getting along with the other Avengers."

It sounded too good to be true, yet Bruce could tell Coulson was telling the truth. He didn't look like the type of man who would sugar coat things. "Is it safe for me to be around other people? What if I hurt them?"

Coulson shrugged. "That's up to you. You said you don't want to hurt anyone, so don't. The other kids can take care of themselves."

"Will I be able to try to find a way to cure myself, if that's possible?"

"We can provide you with whatever resources you need. Should I take these questions as your acceptance into the program?"

Bruce hesitated. "Is there a catch?"

"As I said, you'd have to disappear. You'll officially be dead. Even your parents can't know. It's a big decision, but it's the smart one. At least while we figure things out."

"I'm in." Bruce wasn't particularly close to his parents. They'd always been busy with work, and Bruce had been going to boarding school and university his whole life. It would be tough, but not impossible. He'd already gone on letting them think he was missing for months. This might bring them peace. An image of Betty popped up in his mind, but he slammed down on that train of thought.

"Great. I need to go to D.C. Grab whatever you need and hop on the plane outside whenever you're ready. Your new life awaits."

…

"Tony, breakfast time," Steve said, shoving open the door to the genius's room. All he could see of Tony was a tuft of dark hair in the huge, king-size bed. He didn't stir. " _Tony._ Come on, you need to eat, and I'm not cooking for you later. Now or never."

There was a groan, and then the blankets shifted. The arc reactor in his chest cast a strange pattern on his face as he sat up and glared at Steve. The super-soldier didn't care. Tony was unpleasant most of the time, but he was always at his worst when he'd just been woken up. Usually Pepper would wake Tony up to spare Steve, but she wasn't here today, leaving him with the chore.

"Food's waiting in the kitchen," Steve said.

"Five more minutes." Tony rolled back over, pulling the sheets with him.

"No, up!" He was about to strangle Tony. He always made things harder than they needed to be. Then his phone rang, and he answered it without even checking who it was. "Hello?"

"Steve?"

"Oh, hi, Phil. What's up?" he said in relief, stepping into the hall, but making sure to leave the door open. That always succeeded in annoying Tony. "Mission or something for me?"

"No, not this time," Coulson replied, then sighed. "I'm sending a new Avenger over. Get a room ready. He should be there in a few hours."

"Woah, what?" he asked, shocked. In the entire first year of the Avengers program there'd only been himself and Tony. Steve had actually doubted if there would ever be another Avenger.

"I don't have much time to explain right now. I need to talk to Fury and convince him that I'm not crazy."

Steve frowned, but decided not to ask. "Okay. I'll get a room ready. Anything you want to tell me about the new Avenger?"

"He's fourteen years old, and his name is Bruce Banner. Oh, and please don't upset him. That goes double for Tony."

"Alright," Steve said, baffled. He was about to say goodbye, but he had to ask... "Is Peggy coming back with him?"

"I'm sorry, Steve, but Agent Carter's on a mission right now. I don't know when she'll be back."

Steve felt strangely upset with that answer, even though he'd been expecting it. "Right. Okay. Bye."

The line went dead. Steve sighed and tucked the phone back in his pocket. It was hard dating a spy.

…

"It looks like Brucie's here," Tony said in a sing-song voice as a plane set down in front of them. Steve frowned and brushed his hair out of his face as the wind died down.

"Remember, Coulson said to not upset this guy, so please, for the love of God—" he begged.

The genius rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, I'll play nice with the new kid."

Steve wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now. Pepper was at school, Rhodey was in military training, Sam was with Coulson, and Peggy was God knows where. He had no backup, no one to help him be a buffer for Tony's abrasive personality.

The ramp came down. Steve and Tony waited patiently as a teenager walked down the ramp towards them slowly. He was about Tony's height, with curly brown hair and a thin frame. His sweater hung on him loosely and a pair of clunky headphones were slung around his neck. As he walked towards the two Avengers he kept his eyes downcast as he played with the ends of his sleeve.

"You must be Bruce Banner," Steve said, smiling warmly. Bruce's eyes flickered up before looking down again. "It's nice to meet you."

"Uh, hi," he said nervously.

"I'm Steve Rogers. This is Tony Stark."

The genius cocked his head. "Wait a minute. Are you the Bruce Banner who worked on anti-electron collisions?"

"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, meeting Tony's eyes.

Tony whistled. "Impressive. Some of the best work I've read. I figured you'd be a lot older. You know, some middle aged virgin scientist with nothing better to do."

"Nope. Just a fourteen year old who needed to give Culver University a convincing reason to give me a full scholarship," Bruce said. Steve felt like he'd fallen into a parallel universe where Tony Stark had just easily made a friend through shared interest and compliments. "Wait, Tony Stark? First off, you're dead. Second off, I have also followed all of your inventions and they're incredible."

"I like him!" Tony declared, pointing at Bruce, who looked baffled, but kind of pleased. "Come on, Brucie, if you're a fan of my work, then I have a lot to show you."

"We'll show you around the Facility," Steve interpreted, opening the door for Bruce. Tony was already hopping in the driver's seat. "Welcome to the Avengers."


	7. Chapter 7 (Interlude)

"Present for you, Brucie," Tony declared, dropping a small metal device onto Bruce's lab table.

The scientist grinned at him. "You shouldn't have, honey. What is it?"

"Mine and Steve's S.H.I.E.L.D. files," he said nonchalantly. Bruce frowned in concern. "Cap and I decided since we're all going to be stuck with each other, we should know all the gritty details. Everything's in there. Power assessment, threat assessment, medical forms, psych forms, Coulson's assessment, personal history… basically, anything and everything you could ever want to know."

"Are you sure about this? I mean, this seems like really personal stuff," Bruce objected.

Tony snorted. "You haven't even read it yet. And the whole gift thing means you have our permission. If you don't want to know, don't touch it. But, since you're a scientist and naturally curious, I know you will and you're only being polite."

Bruce hated that he was right. He never could keep his curiosity in check. But he was also kind of pleased that Tony understood him so well, even though he'd only been at the Facility a few weeks now. It was nice having a friend with such similar interests who was also his age, and didn't give a damn about anything. The first time Bruce had come down to the lab to avoid sleeping, Tony had already been there. Instead of questioning what he was doing up at three in the morning, he'd just waved him over and asked with help on some weird project for S.H.I.E.L.D. involving studying alien DNA. He would have thought he'd dreamed that night if he hadn't found the notes on the project with his writing on the paper.

"Okay. I'll check that out later," Bruce relented.

"Great. What're you doing right now?"

"Testing samples of my DNA with various substances." Tony had wandered over and absently peeked at the microscope. When he tried to touch one of the samples, Bruce grabbed his hand. "Do not touch that!"

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "I know how to handle lab equipment, Bruce. Actually, in case you forgot, this was my lab before I so generously donated it to your madness."

"Did you also know my blood is toxic and could possibly give you third degree burns if it came into contact with your skin?" Bruce asked him in exasperation. Tony jumped a step back and Bruce smirked victoriously.

"That would have been a good thing to mention in your file."

"You already read my file?!"

"Just this morning. That's why I gave you mine today. So we're even."

The scientist sighed. He really did like Tony, but the genius could probably work on personal boundaries. Tony had spent hours asking all about Bruce and his life, but whenever he'd tried to get to know more about the genius, Tony had clammed up. From the scattered bits he'd heard from Pepper, Steve, and Coulson, Tony had had the worst childhood possible, and _then_ it had all gone to shit from there. Bruce understood that Tony probably just wasn't ready to talk about it yet, but it could be frustrating at times to feel like he hardly knew his new best friend at all.

"Okay, well, since I am, um, _volatile_ , a lot of the medical records and physical assessments are incomplete. Most of the information we have is based on my research and observations. I only discovered my blood is toxic this week. I was worried about sticking a needle in my arm, so it took a while before I felt safe taking a sample."

Even after convincing himself that a blood sample was necessary, Bruce had been terrified he'd trigger a transformation. He wasn't sure how dangerous or severe the injury had to be to cause a Hulk out. Luckily, a needle hadn't been enough for a transformation. Actually, Bruce had yet to loose control since coming here. Everyday he worried that that streak would be broken, but luckily Tony and Steve had been keeping him mostly too busy to spend time thinking about it.

"You need to live a little more, Brucie," Tony said, a dangerous spark lighting in his eyes. "Let's take a break from the science-y stuff. I just got a new Tesla, but I upgraded the engine. Want to go for a spin?"

Bruce's first instinct was to say no, no way. But… he'd never had a lot of money, and here Tony was offering to let him ride in a car that definitely cost more than Bruce's parents house had. He couldn't turn down an opportunity like that. The reckless teenage boy inside of him that he'd been repressing for months was begging him to do this one, small, probably harmless, thing.

"Sure. Let's go."

…

Bruce hummed a little to himself as he went down the steps. He held a package in his hand loosely and he hardly needed to pay attention to what he was doing. He'd probably spent most of his time at the Facility going down those stairs, whether to head to his lab or to Tony's garage. The action was almost instinctual. He punched in the code and pushed open the door.

"Tony, package for you—oh," Bruce said.

Steve and another guy were sitting at Tony's computer set-up, and looked at him like they'd been caught hacking the Pentagon. Bruce shifted uneasily, the tension in the air making him uncomfortable. But a quick peek at his heart monitor reassured him that there was no real danger yet.

"Bruce," Steve said, standing up and attempting a smile. "Tony's not here. Ah, I think he's calling Pepper or something."

"Right. I'll just drop this off then." Steve and the other guy watched him as he set down the small package on a worktable. "I guess I'll just go now."

There was a bang as Steve accidentally rammed into a table as he turned back to the computers. He looked sheepishly over at Bruce. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drive you away. Oh, and this is Sam Wilson. He's Coulson's intern, he works here at the Facility."

"Hey," Sam said, raising a hand in Bruce's direction.

Bruce paused by the door. "Uh, nice to meet you. Can I ask what, um, you two are doing? Tony doesn't really like people touching his things. Or people in general, I think."

Steve laughed. "Tony's tricky. I'm surprised how quickly he warmed up to you. Then again, you can keep up with him. He and I just get on each other's nerves."

Bruce had picked up on that rather quickly. It wasn't that Tony and Steve hated each other, Bruce could tell they really were friends, but they were both so stubborn and unafraid to offend the other. Meanwhile, Bruce was quiet and incredibly reluctant to even risk an argument, making it easier for him to get along with Tony. He could tell that Tony was used to people shooting down his mad ideas, but Bruce rolled with them. That, and even Steve and Tony wouldn't risk upsetting Bruce with their fighting.

"Steve," Sam said, looking up at the super-soldier. "You want to let him in?"

Bruce suddenly felt like he was in a spy movie. There was the usual surge of curiosity that he'd always had whenever he didn't know something. He quickly shoved that curiosity down, because if this had anything to do with actual spies, which it very well might because there was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sitting in the room, then Bruce couldn't be involved with it, he had to detach himself from the situation. He needed to maintain his calm at any cost.

"I'm going," Bruce declared, grabbing the doorknob.

"Wait, please, Bruce!" Steve said, a desperate note to his voice. And goddamn him, Bruce froze and turned around. "I promise this isn't going to require you doing anything you're uncomfortable with, and you are free to walk away whenever you want, no judgement, no questions."

"What is it?"

"I need a favor."

Bruce dropped his hand and walked over. "What do you need from me?"

"You read my file, right?" Bruce nodded. "Yeah, okay. Then you know that my best friend joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and was killed on a mission."

Yes, he did know that. Steve's file had been heartbreaking, in a much different way than Tony's. Tony's had mostly been personal trauma and PTSD and family issues. The dark spot on Steve's file was the ever growing list of people that he loved dying. His father, his mother, Dr. Erskine, and now Bucky Barnes, the teen who had been listed as Steve's closest friend. Everyone had expected Steve to die as a child, but instead he had watched everyone else die around him.

"I don't think Bucky's dead," Steve blurted out. "I know he's not. I saw him. He's alive, but something's wrong. I think he was brainwashed or something. All I know is that he's being controlled, and S.H.I.E.L.D. won't believe me. So Tony helped Sam and I rig up a system that is using every camera we can access to search for Bucky. There's been no luck yet, but we're waiting."

Sam turned the screen on one of the computers. Bruce edged forward, pushing up his glasses as he leaned down to examine the display. It was running a program, an immensely complex program, Bruce could tell with just a glance. Tony really was a genius if he'd created that.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, looking up at the super-soldier. Steve looked much older than the sixteen years his file claimed he was. Bruce would have guessed he was in his twenties, at the peak of human strength. "Tony already made the program, and I don't think I can improve it."

"No, I know. But when I finally do find Bucky, he's probably not going to be in his right mind," Steve explained, looking at Sam as if for reassurance. "I'm going to need someone I can trust to help him."

"And?"

"And Tony said you specialize in biology and were well on your way to becoming a neurosurgeon. So I thought you might be able to help undo the brainwashing or something when I get him back."

Bruce blinked. "Um, I don't know? I didn't exactly get my doctorate. And brainwashing wasn't exactly something we studied at Culver. But I can try? I'll read up on it, and I should probably have at least a theory by the time you find him. That's really all I can promise."

Steve grinned broadly. "That's all I wanted to hear."

…

 _Betty,_

 _I know this is crazy, and you may not even believe this message is from me, with good reason, but it is. I don't know what your father told you, that I'm a monster, or I died, or what, but the real answer is, it's complicated._

 _I am a monster. Or I turn into one. I'm not sure. I know I was lied to when I signed up for the experiment. They were trying to create a weapon, not find a cure, and they succeeded. Partially. I had to run away to avoid being used as a weapon. Now I'm somewhere where I can't harm anyone, like I did to you. I can't ever say how sorry I am that I hurt you. I hope that you're okay, and that its okay if you hate me. I won't be angry with you if you are, because you have every reason to be._

 _You were right about the experiment. I should have listened to you. But I didn't, and now we've both paid the price. I'm sorry._

 _I don't know if you hate me or not, so I'll keep this brief. I'm alive, I'm safe, I am a monster, I don't want to be, I'm working on a cure, and I won't be able to see you again unless I find one. I understand if you don't want to see me. You don't have a way of contacting me, and it needs to stay that way. If the day ever comes that I can walk outside again, I'll find you. You can turn me away, and I'll go, but I'm going to try._

 _I guess that's all. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for so many things. I love you. -BB_

…

Bruce stared at the email he'd written. He'd spent hours writing and re-writing it, and he still wasn't satisfied, but he'd done all he could. Before he could doubt himself, he hit send and slammed the laptop shut. There. Done. No going back. Betty would get his message via the anonymous account he'd created to be untraceable and to delete itself as soon as the message was sent. Nothing that could link that message back to him or the Facility, but she would know. She would know who sent it.

Tony walked over to him, giving him a quizzical look. "What's up, buddy? Something bothering you? Can I help?"

Bruce waved a hand. "Not on this one. Thanks."

"Alright. Just let me know. I'm always happy to help my science bro out."

Bruce laughed. "Science bro?"

"Yup. Like normal bros, but smarter and more fun," Tony babbled, picking up an Iron man gauntlet prototype he was working on and fiddling with some of the wiring. "We should get matching shirts."

"We should definitely not do that. You _should_ fix that weapon that Agent Carter dropped off and asked you to work on," the scientists reminded him pointedly.

"Geez, you're just as bad as Pepper with all the nagging. I finished that project during breakfast."

"You mean you stayed up all night and while Steve and I ate breakfast you finished the project down here and missed your second meal in a row," Bruce translated.

Tony pouted at him. "Aw, Brucie, don't be boring. Science requires devotion! I couldn't just leave when I was onto something."

"You could have asked for someone to at least bring you food. Come on, let's grab lunch, before you start a new project."

Tony hesitated, then shrugged and stalked towards the door, throwing the gauntlet over his shoulder carelessly. Bruce caught it ungracefully and set it down gently before hurrying after Tony. They ascended the stairs to the living room and wandered over to the kitchenette. Two sandwiches were already sitting on the island. Probably courtesy of Steve before he went for a run with Sam, if it could be called that. The super-soldier took a perverse pleasure in lapping his running partner an inane amount of times.

"You know, I've been thinking, Brucie," Tony said as they munched at the sandwiches and watched some TV, sprawled out on the couches. "Since you are adamantly opposed to doing anything fun like going on missions or working with explosives—"

"We have very different definitions of fun," he interjected.

Tony didn't even notice. "—you should ask Coulson to put you on the science analyst team. So you can assist missions without ever having to leave the comfort of the Facility. Plus, you would never be bored, never out of new projects. And they're bound to be much more entertaining than anything you were learning in a classroom."

"Despite how derogatory that spiel was, that is not a bad idea." Bruce considered for a moment. It did sound pretty good. Getting to do what he loved while helping the world, and without much risk of turning green. "I'll ask Coulson about it whenever he comes over next."

"Finally, you're not being boring!" Tony cheered. "Wait til they give you something alien to study. S.H.I.E.L.D. can actually be fun sometimes, if you have high enough clearance."

"How high is our clearance?" Bruce asked curiously.

"We're Level 8. Which is also the clearance you have to have to even possibly know that we exist. Which basically means only officers and higher. We're one of the world's best kept secrets."

"So everyone working at the Facility is an officer?"

"Nope," Tony said, popping the _p_ sound. "Some of the people who work here don't actually know who we are. They were just told to make sure no enters the Facility, and that we don't leave it. Basically, a prison, except a super high-tech, comfy one. You're welcome."

"Right. Thanks for financing our prison."

"You're very welcome."


	8. Chapter 8

Peter listened with rapt attention as Uncle Ben explained what experiments his friends were conducting in their lab. The little boy's eyes were wide as he peaked in the containers holding tons of small animals, mostly spiders. Spiders were the primary focus of this experiment. Gene splicing. It was incredible. Ben had arranged for this little tour because of Peter's recent obsession with science. He'd called in some favors with a friend of his to get his nephew in here, as a birthday present, and Peter seemed to be loving it.

"What's that one called?" Peter asked, pointing to a bright blue spider with red markings.

Ben's scientist friend began to explain. The little boy nodded along, even seeming to follow when the explanation got a little more in depth of the exact science going on in the experiment. Ben was impressed. He'd suspected Peter was a really smart kid, maybe even a genius, for a while now, but this seemed to prove it. Seven years old and keeping up a PhD level conversation. Maybe he would have to talk to May about getting Peter into a better school, or maybe even moving him up a grade. The kid would probably do just fine.

"Okay, my lunch break is coming up, so this little tour is gonna have to end," Ben's friend said.

"Aw!" Peter complained.

Ben smiled and brushed his nephew's curls back. "Sorry, Pete. Thanks again for this tour."

"No problem. Maybe in a few years Pete could intern here. You have one heck of a kid, Ben."

"I know," Ben said proudly. "Say bye, Pete."

"Bye! Thanks for the tour," the kid said, already bouncing on his feet. He had so much _energy._ Especially when he got excited or interested in something.

"My pleasure. You know the way out."

Ben went to shake some hands of the other people he knew in the lab. He'd gone to school with a lot of them. Peter wandered back over to the containers, taking in the bright creatures one last time. He was already deciding how he'd convince Ben to let him come back here sometime. He frowned when he noticed that the spider he'd admired a minute ago was missing. At first he thought it was just hiding, or maybe it could camouflage itself, but under closer inspection it was clear the spider wasn't in there.

Just as he was about to call his uncle over, he felt a sharp sting on his hand. He automatically slapped it, but there wasn't anything there. When he held up his hand it looked normal. Shrugging the little pain off, he bounded over to Ben, who was waiting by the door. He waved goodbye to all the scientists. He wanted to get home quickly because Aunt May had promised to order pizza for dinner.

* * *

"Peter? Are you okay? You're looking kind of pale," May said worriedly. "And you've barely touched your plate! I thought this was your favorite."

Peter blinked slowly. "I don't feel so good."

May and Ben traded worried looks. He must have caught some sickness. There had been a cold going through his school lately, which they had received a precautionary e-mail about. He must have caught it. Ben stood up, grabbing his empty plate and Peter's, which had barely been touched.

"How about you head up to bed, kiddo? We'll see how you feel in the morning," Ben suggested. "Wake me or May up if you need us."

Peter nodded and got slowly to his feet. He seemed somewhat unsteady as he walked up the stairs, but he made it just fine to his room. May started playing with her wedding ring, a nervous habit Ben had picked up on long ago. He placed his hand over hers and smiled reassuringly. She sighed and leaned back into him.

"I'm sorry. I just hope it's not serious. It's all over the news, how kids are getting hospitalized, even dying. And Peter's just so small..." she said, trailing off.

"Hey, he'll be fine. He's tough. Anyways, he might just be tired. We did a lot of walking today at the lab, I forgot to check in on him."

She smiled. "It sounded like you two had a ton of fun."

"More Peter than me. I could barely understand what they were talking about. But it was worth it to see him smiling."

"I hope he's okay."

* * *

Something was incredibly, horribly wrong.

Peter's vision had started flickering in and out when he reached the second floor. His feet had automatically carried him into his room, where he stumbled into his bed and fell. When he tried to get up, he found that a burning sensation was spreading through his limbs, starting in in his arms and moving quickly. Soon it felt like his whole body was burning, and all he could do was curl up tightly, as if to protect his body from some external foe. But this was internal. Something was wrong _inside_ him and he didn't know what to do.

Through the pain, it briefly occurred to him to yell. When he tried, a rattling gasp came out instead. He couldn't get enough air, he was suffocating, the burning was spreading, growing hotter. His vision was spiraling in and out of focus and his body thrashed of its own accord. Every second it grew worse and worse, until he wanted to _die, anything_ that could stop the burning. He just wanted the pain to _go away…_

He lost consciousness as the burning hit a new peak.

* * *

Peter's head felt fine as he raised it off the floor the next morning. In fact, everything felt fine. Whatever pain had seized his body last night was completely gone. He actually felt _better_ than he had even two days ago. Something was different, but he couldn't quite tell what. Peter shrugged and went to change his clothes, which he'd slept in. May would throw a fit if she saw him in yesterday's clothes.

Something weird happened when he tried to move aside one of his pants. It seemed to be stuck to his hand. Frowning, he shook his hand, but the pants didn't fall. He couldn't understand why they were sticking to him. They didn't feel sticky. A strange urge had him reflexively twitching his hand and the pants fell.

Curious, he picked them up again. They didn't stick this time. Reaching out, he picked it up for a third time and twitched again. He could hardly see his own hand move, but he could somehow sense the difference. The pants stuck. Another twitch and they fell.

"Okay, this is wierd," Peter said to himself.

"Peter! Breakfast!" May yelled from downstairs.

"Coming!" he replied automatically. He looked at his hand and then shrugged. He'd figure it out later. Maybe he was still asleep. His stomach grumbled, as if urging him downstairs, so he finished getting dressed and headed down.

May and Ben were already there. May was scrolling through her phone, checking her messages. Ben was frying bacon at the stove. The delicious smell of bacon filled the room. It seemed especially poignant today. A plate and a glass of orange juice was already waiting at Peter's spot. He sat down.

"Morning, Pete," Ben said.

"How are you feeling?" May asked anxiously, leaning towards him to feel his forehead. "You're a little warm. Do you want to see a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine!" Peter blurted out. "Really, I feel great now."

"Atta boy," Ben said in approval. "Eat up, you barely ate last night."

He dug into his plate. Everything tasted especially flavorful. He nearly gagged when he drank his orange juice right after his bacon. Their tastes mingled in his mouth nauseatingly, and he almost threw up. What was wrong with him? This had never happened before. But May was still watching his worriedly, so he decided not to make a big deal about it. Maybe his taste buds had just changed. He'd learned that that happens pretty frequently. He really hoped that was the case. He loved bacon.

"Ready for school?" Ben asked, shaking his car keys.

"Yeah. Bye, May, love you!" he called, racing out the door before Ben. His strides seemed to be easier, longer. He nearly flew off the porch when he took a step. Whoa. He had to be careful until he figured out what was going on with his body.

"Careful there," Ben said with a smile. "Time for school."

Peter just hoped everything would be back to normal by the time they got there.

…

Everything was weird all day. His taste buds were out of whack, he could still stick things to his body on command, and when a kid whistled in class Peter had to slam his hands over his ears. The sharp sound had been like someone had taken a knife to his head. His teacher had expressed concern, but he'd just lied and said he had sensitive hearing. Though he supposed it wasn't really a lie right now. When he got home he went straight up to his room and began to write down his symptoms.

"Okay, Peter, just figure out what's going on," he murmured to himself, looking at his own hands which seemed incredibly foreign to him. He didn't look any different, but he could _feel_ it. Something had changed.

As he stared at his hands a thought occurred to him. "I wonder…" He didn't finish the thought out loud.

Instead he stepped up to the blank wall in his room. He'd been begging May to get him a TV to put there, but she hadn't given in yet. He placed his fingertips on the wall and felt himself stick. Then he put one foot on the wall. He could tell it was sticking, even through the shoe. The other foot went up next. It worked. He was completely off the floor, and it felt more like he was kneeling on the wall then standing. He planted both feet against the wall and released his fingertips.

Peter stood perfectly upright on the wall and stared down at the floor. He giggle quietly.

"This is awesome," he whispered to himself.

And completely impossible. It didn't even occur to Peter in that moment that what he was doing was inexplicable. He walked around on his walls and ceiling for hours, testing out his limits. He didn't find them. He even automatically back flipped when he dropped from the ceiling to land on his feet. He'd never done a back flip before. It felt entirely natural. His body easily re-orientated itself to whatever surface he was on. It was incredible.

It was only when May called him to dinner that he realized that they didn't know.

He debated whether he should tell them. He trusted them, but this was weird. Weird weird. Peter bit his lip. In all the movies and TV shows he watched, people who got abilities like this never told anyone. Because if they did, someone would come hurt them, or someone they loved. So Peter decided to keep quiet. Until he understood what was happening. He didn't want to freak May and Ben out anyways, and this would definitely freak them out.

* * *

Peter used his abilities every time he was alone. He spent hours in his bedroom crawling along the ceiling. He would sneak into the garage at night and lift whatever he could, Ben's weights, the worktable, the car. At school, he tested his sticking ability discreetly on different supplies. It was all pretty easy, and it excited him. This was the most incredible thing to happen to him.

But as a seven year old with superpowers, he was bound to slip up.

He didn't mean to. It was all over the news lately, kids with strange powers appearing all over the world. A boy who could turn into a horrible monster. A girl who could move things with her mind. A boy faster than light. People were worried, and scared. Peter knew he had been smart to keep quiet about his own abilities. But when he saw the car hurtling towards the couple, he reacted before he could think it through.

He moved between the car and the couple and halted it in its path with his bare hands. The screeching of the tires hurt his ears, but he gritted his teeth. He slid only a little bit, using his sticking ability to stay in place. The car had his small hand prints dented in its side when it finally slid to a stop. But the couple was safe. And everyone was looking at him.

Peter turned and ran all the way home, not stopping until he was inside.

Hopefully no one had taken a picture or a video of that. It wasn't like anyone would recognize him. He was just one of thousands of kids in the city, and he wasn't remarkable, except for the fact that he was unremarkable. Small, brown haired, and wearing a backpack. It would be hard to narrow that down. He told himself he was freaking out over nothing. It would be fine.

* * *

It was raining. Peter wished it wasn't. Ben had been planning on taking him to a birthday party at the park, except now it was cancelled. He was sulking in his room, upset. May and Ben were watching the news downstairs. Peter hated the news. It was depressing. And it kept showing segments on powered kids turning bad. It made him uncomfortable.

He'd tried distracting himself by doing a Lego set, except he kept thinking about how much he wanted to be at the park. Even walking on his walls offered very little compensation for being stuck inside all day. He was standing on his ceiling, looking through the window at the rain. The yard was flooding. Maybe May would let him splash in the puddles when the rain let up. That was why she had bought him those new boots, after all.

"Something is wrong."

Peter couldn't explain why he had said that. But he knew it was true. It was like a dull pain in his stomach, growing more insistent by the minute. He didn't understand. Nothing was happening. There was just the rain, the sound of the TV droning downstairs, and splashing.

Splashing?

People were walking down the sidewalk, water spraying out under their large feet. He could hear them. The pain grew worse. They didn't have umbrellas. They were approaching his house. Peter didn't recognize them. May and Ben didn't invite friends over very often. Who were these people? Why did he want to run from them?

He had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming as one of the men kicked the door down. He heard Ben shout angrily, and then a sharp noise he'd only ever heard on TV. A gunshot. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear it over the thunder rumbling outside and the wind whipping the trees. Peter was shaking as he dropped from the ceiling. He opened the window without thinking and hung under his windowsill, clinging to the side of the house. His clothes were soaked in a minute, but he stayed in place. He knew something bad would happen if he didn't hide.

A second gunshot.

The men went stomping through the rest of the house. They were looking for him, he knew it. He didn't know why, but he was sure. He needed to stay hidden.

He listened, shaking from the cold as they searched every room. He pressed tighter against the side of the house when he heard them in his room. It seemed like he was there for eternity. Eventually he heard all the men gather downstairs. He stayed where he was, too scared to move, unsure where he'd even go, and too terrified to think.

* * *

"We're sure there's a powered kid here?" Tony asked skeptically. It looked like a normal suburb to him.

"Peter Parker. Seven years old. Stopped a car from killing two pedestrians two days ago. Footage was grainy, but S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to identify him. Which means HYDRA was able to also," Rogers said succinctly. God, Tony couldn't stand this guy.

"We don't know that," the genius argued. Steve could hardly believe a fourteen year old could be that annoying and not have it be his superpower.

"Captain! Two gunshots in the house," an agent said. Steve swore.

"We need to get down there. Find the kid," Steve snapped at Tony, pulling his shield off his back.

"What are you going to do?" Tony demanded.

"Take out the HYDRA pricks!" Then, like the over dramatic shit he was, Rogers jumped out of the jet without a parachute.

"I still hate you," Tony said, even though Steve was too far away to hear. Rogers was too goddamn selfless and brave. It pissed Tony off.

He did have to admit though, Steve hadn't hesitated in taking this mission and now was willing to jump right into the fray. If it had been anybody else, Tony might have been impressed. Instead he was just annoyed, and resolved to do better than Rogers at this mission. The mask snapped down over his face.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., get me some scans of the place," he commanded.

"Yes, sir. I detect one heat signature upstairs, and ten downstairs and in the backyard," his A.I. replied.

"Great. I'll go join Rogers."

"Sir, the heat signature upstairs seems to be that of a child. I believe he's hanging out of the window."

Tony jumped out of the jet and rocketed as quietly and quickly as he could to that house. He only caught a glimpse of a person before they had jumped back in the window.

"I believe that was him, sir."

"Damn, I think he is powered," Tony mumbled. He maneuvered through the open window. It was a difficult task when you were trying to be stealthy in a giant iron suit. _And_ trying not to startle the kid. This was getting more complicated by the minute, although Tony was glad those gunshots hadn't seemed to hurt the kid.

He saw the kid slip out of the room. Cursing, Tony emerged from his suit, set it on follow mode, and raced after the kid. The kid was _fast._ And apparently flexible. To avoid Tony, he vaulted over the railing on the stairs and landed on the ground floor. Right where J.A.R.V.I.S. had said there were multiple HYDRA agents. Shit.

He pressed his ear piece. "Rogers, I need you in here right now!"

"You were supposed to grab the kid, not go in, dammit, Tony!" came the reply.

"He bolted, and now the bad guys are after him!" Tony yelled, running down the stairs, sweeping his arm forward to control his suit. It swept by him and began blasting at the men who had started to rush at the kid. Pete, or something? He should have listened to Steve's briefing.

"On my way!" Steve replied.

Tony was already busy. The kid had frozen in place, his face paling. Man, he was tiny. Couldn't be more than six or seven. How did Tony end up in these messes? He'd have to dwell on it later, because Pete was frozen and approximately seven HYDRA agents were rushing at them with raised shock batons. Those would knock either of them out instantly. Another Stark invention. God, he wished he hadn't tried to impress his father so much. It felt like every time he fought someone they used a weapon he'd created for his dad. Like some sort of cosmic irony.

"I'm here to help you, kid!" Tony yelled.

"Where are my aunt and uncle?" the kid yelled back as Tony grabbed his wrist and pulled him roughly into what seemed to be the formal dining room. The shock batons missed them by a hairsbreadth.

Shit. There had been two gunshots. He _really_ needed to get the kid out of here.

"Hold that thought," Tony said, spreading his arms as his suit folded itself over him. He turned and blocked a strike from one of those batons. The men had spread out, two coming the same way they had, two from the other doorway, and the other three hanging back in the hallway. Trying to trap them in. Tony kept the kid behind him as he blasted two of the men back with his repulsors and punched the other one away. They struggled for a minute, but Tony wasn't feeling merciful today. Not when there was a child's life on the line. Especially a child who might have just been orphaned.

He whirled around as J.A.R.V.I.S. alerted him that the fourth man was lunging forward. He turned just in time to see a small foot lunge out and catch the man in the chest. He went flying back, his head cracking against the wall. Dead. Pete, the kid, had killed a fully grown HYDRA agent with a single, incredibly powerful kick. That was bad. Tony shot the man with his repulsors quickly, to make it seem like he had killed the man.

"May! Ben!" Pete...was it Peter?...yelled suddenly, fleeing from the room.

"Wait, kid, there's still more men!" Tony called desperately, flying after him. He could see Steve in the backyard, fighting more agents. Cap could handle himself though, even if it looked to be a five on one fight. The kid probably could too, except Tony's whole mission was finding this kid.

The kid had froze in the doorway. Tony stopped beside him, and had to hold in his swear. Two bodies were lying on the rug, which was stained red with blood. The kid's aunt and uncle, he guessed. They died quickly, a bullet through the brain. The HYDRA guys hadn't been messing around.

" _No!"_ the kid cried, dropping next to their corpses. "No, no, no, no, _no!_ No, Ben, May, please, no!"

Tony watched the kid wail like he was watching a scene out of someone else's life. It seemed surreal. And then in a cold blast of air from the open window it felt all too real. Those bastards had murdered this couple, and now their nephew was crying over their bodies. And they'd tried to take him too, maybe kill him. Tony wasn't sure which. And in that moment it didn't matter to him one bit.

J.A.R.V.I.S. had said there were ten men in this house. Tony and Peter had taken out four. Steve was dealing with the five outside. That meant there was one left. And Tony intended to make sure that prick didn't escape. He had to still be on the premises, or J.A.R.V.I.S. would have alerted him that someone was getting away.

It appeared on his screen. Upstairs. One heat signature. Adult male. Perfect.

Tony didn't remember how he got upstairs. He didn't remember opening the door to the master bedroom. Nor did he remember seeing the prick taking all of Aunt May's nicest jewelry. He didn't remember stepping out of his suit. In fact, he didn't remember anything he did from the time he left the kid to the moment his fist slammed into the HYDRA agent's face.

It was pathetic, really. Tony had caught him completely by surprise. His electrified baton and even his helmet were sitting on the bed. Tony was strong from hours of lifting heavy metal and working out. So even though he was only fourteen, he nearly knocked the man out in one blow. And he didn't relent. Fists, feet, elbows, teeth. Anything was fair in this fight. Tony barely seemed to feel the few blows that the man actually landed. He was frenzied. This wasn't an interrogation, a knockout, or even a kill. This was pure revenge, and Tony wanted it to last. To hurt HYDRA like the kid was hurting downstairs.

"Tony!" someone yelled. The genius kept whaling on the man, who was a bloody mess on the ground. "Stop! You're killing him!"

Someone grabbed Tony from behind and tossed him into the wall. Dazed, his eyes focused just in time to see Steve cleanly snap the neck of the agent.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Tony screamed angrily, getting to his feet.

"What the hell were _you_ doing?!" Steve retorted. "That was over the line, Stark. Way over it. That was torture. That's not our mission." Tony didn't say anything. Steve sighed. "I took out the rest of the men. Where's the kid?"

"Downstairs," he said mechanically. The super-soldier made to shove past him, but Tony grabbed his arm. "Steve. The gunshots. They killed the kid's aunt and uncle. He found the bodies."

"...Let's go."

* * *

Peter didn't know how long he'd been crying. He couldn't stop though. He heard things breaking, people shouting, and stairs creaking. It all seemed to swirl around him, but he felt disconnected. All he could see was May and Ben's bodies, sprawled on the ground. And when he shut his eyes they were replaced with his parents in their caskets. Peter rocked slowly, his arms around his knees as he sobbed into his elbow.

"Peter?" a soft voice said.

He jerked and backed up. They were back, they were going to hurt him, like they'd hurt Ben…

"Peter, we're not here to hurt you. We're with S.H.I.E.L.D., and we came to save you. Please, come with us now, we can keep you safe," the voice said.

Two people had entered the room. A tall blonde man and a dark haired man. Peter was backed against a wall and frightened. He didn't trust them. Not when he could feel blood on his hands and he knew there were more dead bodies beyond those in this room. Bodies the people approaching him had put there. He didn't know what was going on and his heart was still hammering.

"Kid, I promise we're not here to hurt you. Those other guys were," the second man said, crouching. "We're kids like you. But unless you come with us, those other guys will be back."

Peter noticed that that pain, the dull pain that had been in his stomach since the first men had arrived, was gone. He frowned, and then looked at the two men. The second one wasn't lying. They looked like teenagers. And they didn't have the scary electric things or the dark uniforms as the other men had had. The first teen was tall, blonde, and wore a blue suit. A shield was slung across his back. The second was a bit younger than his friend. His knuckles were bloody and he had a rapidly forming black eye. He must have been the one in the incredible metal suit.

"We have to go now, we'll keep you safe," he continued, holding out his hand.

Peter couldn't explain why he took the teen's hand to himself later. But he did, and the two teens wasted no time in pulling him out of his home and taking him to an invisible jet parked in the treeline of the park near his house. It barely registered to Peter that he was on an invisible jet. He was still crying. He let the teen guide him to a seat and belt him in.

"We're taking you to a safe house upstate," the blonde teen said, standing before Peter. "We'll explain everything we can there."

"I got him, Rogers," the dark haired teen said, belting himself in next to Peter, who had raised his knees up to hug. "Go call Agent."

It briefly occurred to Peter that they were talking in code. He was too out of it and confused to even think about it at the time. Rogers looked surprised, but left.

The jet took off.

* * *

"I'm Tony, by the way," he said awkwardly to the unresponsive bundle that was the kid. Peter. He'd heard Steve call him Peter. He didn't know what to do. Tony barely knew how to handle his own emotions, much less someone else's. Especially a little kid who had just seen his aunt and uncle's bodies. But he also knew that when he lost Jarvis he'd wanted someone to cry on. Maybe not a stranger, but in this case, he had a feeling anyone would do.

A strong shiver racked through Peter. At first Tony assumed it was a sob, but then he noticed the kid was soaking wet. He'd been outside for a long time, and in the rush to get him to safety they'd forgotten to grab a coat. Tony hastily shed his coat, grimacing at the bloodstains on the sleeve, but ultimately decided it was better than nothing.

"Here," Tony said gently, touching Peter's back and leaning him forward. The kid stiffened, but offered no resistance. Tony tucked the jacket around him. It dwarfed the child, but he stopped shaking. That was good. "It's not a long flight. We'll get you some dry clothes when we arrive. Just tell me if you need anything."

Tony had to hold in a sigh. Peter didn't acknowledge him. He didn't know what to do to help. Pepper would know what to do. She always knew. But, as many people frequently reminded him, Tony had abysmal people skills. He was more likely to insult someone than to befriend someone. That wouldn't work in this scenario though. He would have to do something. He shouldn't have sent Steve away. Rogers could probably do better.

That decided it for Tony. He would not allow Rogers to be better than him at anything.

Hesitantly, Tony reached out and touched Peter's curly hair. At first, there was no reaction, so he cautiously began stroking his hair. It was soft, slightly damp, and curly. After a minute he noticed Peter had scooted slightly closer to him, and adjusted his position to be more comfortable. That was good.

By the time the plane had landed Peter's head was in his lap and he was fast asleep. He'd had an exhausting day. The tears hadn't dried off his face yet.

Steve walked over. He gave Tony a bewildered look when he saw the kid. Tony smirked smugly. Take that, Rogers. The super-soldier smiled approvingly.

"Good job," Rogers whispered. "Phil and Bruce are waiting for him. Do you want me to carry him?"

Tony shook his head and expertly scooped up Peter. The kid didn't even wake up. Steve stepped aside to let Tony through. They needed to figure out exactly how the kid had powers and why HYDRA had wanted him.

They also needed to arrange a funeral.

The Parker household had already been cordoned off, but the clean-up would take a while. That mission had gone south before they even arrived. No one knew how HYDRA had found Peter so quickly. That question would have to wait though. New Avengers always took top priority for S.H.I.E.L.D. They'd never expected to have a seven year old Avenger though.

"Here, Brucie," Tony said, laying the child out in the Medbay. Bruce wasted no time in starting his check-up. Peter didn't even stir. He must have been exhausted. Or in shock.

Tony rejoined Steve and Phil in the hallway. They were both looking in through the clear window at the kid, worry etched on both their faces. Tony started flexing his hand. It looked like someone had filleted it open, a giant smudge of blood and not knuckles. Coulson noticed.

"I think you should have Bruce check that out, Mr. Stark," the agent said, trying to make the order sound like a suggestion. Tony completely ignored him. "How'd you even split your knuckles? You have an iron suit."

"Actually, it's a gold-titanium alloy," he corrected.

Steve frowned at him. "Stark took off his suit to beat up a HYDRA agent. It looked like he was trying to kill him. Slowly."

"Oh, don't act so high and mighty," the genius snarled. "You left just as many bodies behind as me."

"I didn't prolong it, though! I did my mission! You were out of line! The man was on the ground, defenseless and beaten to a bloody pulp. But you kept going, and you made sure he was conscious for it! It was sick! I had to stop you!"

Coulson stepped between them, looking surprised and betrayed. "Tony, is that true?"

Tony crossed his arms defiantly. "So what if it is? It was a HYDRA bastard. Your precious S.H.I.E.L.D. would just as easily do the same in an interrogation."

"That wasn't an interrogation. That was torture," Steve said flatly, then threw his hands up. "Jesus! Whenever I start thinking that you just might be okay, you pull some shit like this!"

Bruce stepped into the hallway, pulling off his gloves. He froze upon seeing the three men clearly caught mid fight. They all stepped away from each other automatically. No one fought around Bruce. It was the rule. Even Tony didn't mess with that one too much. But the tension in the air was so thick that Bruce considered coming back later just in case.

"What did you find, Mr. Banner?" Coulson said in a deceptively calm voice.

"Um, it's not powers, exactly," Bruce said, fumbling with the words. "Not like the typical ones, I mean."

"He's not Inhuman?" Steve asked for clarification.

"I don't think so, no. There's no evidence of terrigen in his system, and it doesn't match with the other Inhuman DNA I've seen, even though they have vast variations."

"Did he get his powers from an experiment? Is that why they went after him?" Coulson asked, an intent look on his face. Tony still looked incredibly pissed off. Bruce kind of wanted to ask him to leave, except he knew Tony would react poorly.

"No. His DNA has definitely been altered, but experiments, like Steve, stay human, technically. To be completely honest, I don't know what this kid is. He's not human, and he's not Inhuman. He's...new, for lack of a better term," Bruce explained, pushing up his glasses.

Steve and Coulson traded a look. That did not sound good. Even Tony looked interested now, drawn in by the interesting scientific discussion.

"What are his abilities?" Tony asked.

"From what I can tell from his scans, increased metabolism, enhanced senses, and superior strength. He probably knows more about his powers, but he's unconscious. I don't even know what tests I could conduct to find out his abilities. It could be literally anything."

"Well, you said his DNA changed? Any clues to what happened to him there?"

Bruce grimaced. "It was odd. The only genetic code that even looked similar to his was a spider's."

* * *

"Good, you're awake," a voice said, and Peter could hear footsteps. Someone was entering the room.

He opened his eyes. Bright light made his eyes water, so he glanced to the side. He saw a window that looked out into a hallway, a chair beside his bed, and a counter top littered with tools. He couldn't tell what they were from his angle. He could tell he was wearing a hospital gown and that he was lying in a hospital bed. This was all fine. Except he couldn't remember how he got to the hospital.

"I'm Bruce," the voice said, and Peter looked to his other side. A teenager with curly brown hair and kind green eyes was standing next to the bed, wearing a lab coat and holding a Starkpad. "How are you feeling, Peter?"

"Tired," he said automatically. He sat up slowly, the crinkling of his gown filling his ears. Everything was clean, shiny, and bright. It was hurting his eyes. Bruce tilted his head, tapped something on his tablet, and the brightness of the lights went down. Instant relief shot through Peter. "Thank you."

"No problem. You have sensitive eyes, don't you?" Bruce asked. Peter nodded. Despite how young he was and how odd the situation was, Peter felt safe. His stomach didn't hurt, and that always happened when he was in danger, so he must be safe. Anyways, he was tired, and his limbs felt heavy. He didn't want to move. "Can you tell me more about you, Peter? About your abilities?"

Red alert. Peter shot up and made a dash for the door. How'd he know, how had he found out? This was bad, this was very, very bad. The door didn't open. It didn't even budge even when he pulled with all his strength and the handle dented. He whirled around, keeping an eye on Bruce. The teenager just looked mildly concerned.

"Peter, please sit down, you haven't eaten in over a day and I think you're close to fainting," Bruce said soothingly.

"How do you know about me?" Peter demanded, not moving. He still didn't feel any pain, but his vision did go black for a second.

"How much do you remember about yesterday?"

Yesterday...it was raining.

It all came back to him in an overwhelming flood of impressions. Men in black coats. Pain in his stomach. Two gunshots. _Bang, bang!_ Soaking wet, arms trembling. An iron suit. Being shoved around, the crackle of electricity coating his tongue. A room with two bodies. Blood on his hands. A kind voice, a warm jacket, and tears on his face.

Peter fell to the floor and Bruce lunged forward in alarm. But he just sat there and stared at nothing. Tears began to slowly drip down his face. Bruce kneeled across from him, looking sympathetic.

"They're dead."

Bruce nodded. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Peter. I'm so sorry."

His shoulders shook. "They shouldn't...have died. They didn't...they didn't deserve to die. I-I lied to them, and now… and now they're dead and…" He began crying too hard to speak.

Bruce pulled him into a hug. Peter's tears quickly soaked his shirt. Neither seemed to notice or care.

"It's not your fault," Bruce assured him. "It's not your fault, Peter."

* * *

Tony didn't mean to love the kid so much.

He tried to keep his distance at first, while Bruce kept Peter in the Medbay. After all, Tony had other things to worry about than babysitting the new Avenger. Bruce and Coulson were already fretting over the kid day and night. He still stopped by the Medbay at least once a day and kept the kid company. Brought him video games and books. Sometimes they would just talk. The kid had an interest in science and engineering, which pleasantly surprised Tony. Especially when the kid held out in a full one discussion about the workings of the Iron Man suit. That was impressive. He enjoyed talking to the munchkin.

So Tony ended up spending most of his days with the kid.

But he wasn't getting attached. He'd made that mistake before, and he'd only suffered from it. Pepper told him he was being ridiculous, but he didn't care. He would not get suckered into caring for the kid. It was bad enough Bruce had already wormed his way into Tony's heart, and Steve had too, not that he admitted that to anyone, including himself.

Then came the first night out of the Medbay. The kid was put in a room right across from Tony's, which annoyed him. There were plenty of rooms, why did they all have to be put next to each other? He deliberately ignored Bruce's comment that Pepper's room was right next to his when Tony brought that up to him. He wanted to complain, he didn't want logic.

Yet when he heard crying in the middle of the night, Tony immediately dropped what he was doing and ran over to Peter's room. He hopped into the bed with the crying child, held him, and stayed with him until he fell asleep. Even when Steve came to investigate, Tony took care of Peter himself, waving the super-soldier off.

Tony told himself that was a one time occurrence.

Over the next two weeks he comforted Peter every single night. Some nights he stayed with Peter in bed. Other nights he brought Peter to the living room and they binge watched movies until they both passed out as the sun was rising. During the day, Peter would sometimes go into long stretches of silence that no one could penetrate, not even Tony. When that happened Tony just sat near him and worked on something, so Peter could either remain silent or crawl onto his lap for comfort. Steve made a sly comment about how protective Tony was being of the kid. Tony flung the remote at him for it.

Tony moved Peter into his room within the first month. So he wouldn't have to keep leaving his room in the middle of the night, he told Steve. Pepper doubled over laughing when she heard his lame-ass excuse.

"You're scared to let him out of your sight," she said. He didn't answer.

They both knew she was right.


	9. Chapter 9 (Interlude)

"He's so young," Bruce said, looking unhappy. Steve couldn't blame him. He didn't like seeing the child resting in a hospital bed either, but it was for the best. Bruce was a great doctor, and he'd made this call. They had to make sure Peter wasn't hurt, and even more importantly, they needed to be able to understand his biology if they were going to care for him properly.

"Seven. Jesus, can you imagine finding your parents bodies at seven?" Tony said, almost to himself. While Steve and Bruce stood by the window watching Peter, Tony was sitting off to the side, wrapping his own knuckles since Bruce had refused to. If Tony insisted on not taking care of himself, then Bruce wouldn't take care of him either.

"We should probably see if S.H.I.E.L.D. can get a therapist for him. He'll probably need it," Steve said grimly. Bruce grimaced.

"Therapy's dumb," the genius claimed.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you ever been in therapy a day in your life?"

"No. Because it's dumb. The kid just needs some sympathy and some time to adjust."

"Since when do you understand humans?"

"Since I've been through exactly what he's been through. You're not the only one with parents six feet under, Rogers."

The super-soldier was instantly remorseful. "I'm sorry, Tony. I forgot. That was wrong of me to say."

The genius just focused on his wrapping. "Whatever."

Steve wanted to apologize more, he wanted to get on his knees and plead forgiveness. Something about Tony made Steve act like a jerk, made him say things he'd never say to anybody else. Sometimes he forgot that Tony only acted the way he did because of his severely fucked up childhood and even worse teenage years. Not that that was any excuse for the insult he'd just made, but it was true. Tony did such a good job of suppressing his feelings Steve tended to forget he still had any. He could tell that comment had really hurt Tony, but the kid wouldn't want Steve to make a big deal out of it. He hated when people brought up feelings.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Bruce cleared his throat and said, "He'll also need a tutor. When he's feeling up to it."

Steve nodded along vigorously, glad for the subject change. "Yeah. It might be hard having such a young kid around. I mean, the three of us aren't the best company, are we? Tony and I are always out on missions, and Bruce, you have important work down in the lab. I don't want Peter to be lonely."

"We'll worry about that when it comes. Since I'm positive Peter has super-strength, I'm not sure if he should be around regular kids."

"Why not? He's been going to school with super powers, hasn't he? Any injuries?" Tony drawled.

"Well, no, but that's honestly luck. One slip up, and he could have killed a kid playing dodgeball or broken someone's ribs playing tag," Bruce explained. "I think he's not as strong as Steve, but he's young. It's likely he'll only get stronger, not weaker, as he grows up. Like a normal kid, but powered. Puberty might be really interesting for him."

Steve laughed. "There's something to look forward to."

"I think you two geniuses are forgetting something," Tony snapped suddenly.

Steve looked over at him reluctantly. The tone meant he was in a temper, probably caused by his earlier comment. Tony's temper had a very long burn-out time. "What's that?"

"He's an Avenger. Per our prior arrangement, that means he has access to all of our files."

"So? Shouldn't he known who he's living with?" Bruce asked blankly.

"Our files come with backstory. And I for one don't think a seven year old should have access to the horror story that is my life. There's some pretty R-rated stuff in there, between the torture and the graphic descriptions of my slaughtering that I provided S.H.I.E.L.D. with."

Steve did have to admit that Tony had taken his debriefing after Afghanistan seriously. Too seriously. He'd nearly felt like vomiting as he'd listened to the audio clip where a young Tony had described in perfect detail how he'd systematically killed an entire terrorist ring. Thanks to Steve's eidetic memory the debriefing was burned into his mind for all time. There was no way they could allow Peter to listen to that. It would traumatize the kid if he wasn't already, and give him a whole new set of horrors to have nightmares about.

"Okay, you're right. We can make an edited version of our files for Peter," Steve said, thinking it would need to be a _severely_ edited version in Tony's case. "Just take out the graphic details and give him the rest, like the power and strength assessments and psych evals. When he's older, if he wants he can have the unedited version. But for now let's keep it at least PG-13, okay?"

"We might as well not give him my file then," Tony mumbled sullenly.

* * *

"Peter?" Tony called, stepping into the training room.

"Tony!" The genius spun around, trying to spot where the reply had come from. He clutched his arc reactor when he saw the seven year old crawling on the ceiling. That was so unnatural, and Tony was in no way used to it yet.

"Get off the ceiling!" he called, then screamed as Peter simply _dropped,_ flipping to land lightly on his toes in a crouch.

"Good job, Pete," Steve said from where he was bench pressing a literal ton.

Tony glared at the super-soldier. "You let him do that?"

Peter stepped between Tony and Steve, giggling. "Don't be mad at him, Tony, I like walking on the ceiling. And it's safe. I'm sticky, remember?"

Tony couldn't help but smile at that. Peter was simply too adorable, with his soft curls and his precious dimple. Tony had noticed he and Steve had even started fighting less since they got Peter. It was impossible to be mad at each other all the time when Peter was there, smiling and making them laugh. Pepper couldn't have been happier that everyone was getting along. She was always worried that Tony shoved people away.

Peter had wormed his way right through any barriers Tony might have had though. Bruce and Pepper had taken to referring to Peter as Tony's son. And secretly, he really liked it.

"Sorry, kid. Still getting used to your wall-crawling," Tony said, smirking.

"I wouldn't have let him get hurt, you know that," Rogers added. Tony did know that. He still worried. Was this what being a parent was like? It kind of sucked.

"Can we go work on your suit in the garage?" Peter asked eagerly. Okay, it did have some benefits. Tony loved having Peter down in the garage with him. He made the perfect little assistant, and actually had some surprisingly good ideas for the Iron Man suits. Tony was starting to suspect Peter was also a genius. He'd have to ask Coulson to get a test.

"Not right now, buddy. Hey, Rogers, could you give us a minute?"

Steve looked surprised, but he simply set aside his weights and said, "Sure."

Tony waited until he heard the door close before he sat down. The kid came and sat criss cross next to him, starting to look a little nervous. Tony didn't blame him. That spider-sense of his, as they'd come to call it, couldn't have been picking up anything good. If that was how it worked. Peter had a hard time explaining his extra sense. Everyone thought they understood it, but sometimes Peter would still surprise them.

"What's wrong? You look sad."

Tony almost laughed. He loved how perceptive and blunt Peter was. It was refreshing from all the dancing around the subject that Pepper and Steve were so fond of doing. Then again, Tony tended to hurt other people when he was upset. He couldn't help it. The harmful words just came out. He always felt awful about it later.

"I'm okay, kiddo. But I have something pretty serious to ask you."

"What is it?"

"The funeral for your aunt and uncle is going to be in two weeks. Do you want to go?"

Peter said, "Oh," in a horribly small voice. He hugged his knees. He only did that when he was overwhelmed, when he wanted to curl into himself and block out the world. He always went into that pose when he woke up from a nightmare.

Tony pulled the kid under his arm. "Its entirely up to you. If you don't want to go, you don't have to. But if you do, I'll bring you myself. You can think about it for a while if you want. No pressure."

Peter trembled. "I don't know. I've never been to a funeral."

"In my opinion, they're depressing and awful and an excuse for people to show what good friends they were by buying the biggest bouquet. But Steve visits his mom's grave every week. He likes it. I guess you just have to figure out which type you are."

"Do you think May and Ben would be mad at me if I didn't go?" Peter asked into his knees.

"Of course not. I didn't go to my parents funeral. My mom would have understood. She would have forgiven me. I'm sure your aunt and uncle would do the same from what you've told me."

Peter buried his face in Tony's shoulder. For a minute Tony only soothed him as he cried. Then Peter scooted away, wiped his eyes, and said, "I don't want to go."

"You're sure?" he checked. Peter nodded. "Alright then. I'll tell Agent. If you ever change your mind, just let me know. Or if you just want to visit their graves, I'll take you. Or Steve or Pepper. Whoever you want."

"I don't want to remember them that way. They always hated going to my parents grave. They said it didn't feel like they were there."

Tony hesitated before asking, "When did your parents die?"

"I was three. I don't really remember them. Sometimes I think I do, but everyone tells me I was too young."

Tony hated that phrase more than anything else in the world. _Too young._ Who were people to tell you what you can and can't do based on a human concept such as age? Those words had haunted Tony throughout his life. Everyone thought he was too young to have built the things he had, too young to understand what the adults were talking about, and too young to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. When Peter told him he wanted to test out the Iron Man repulsors, Tony had gladly let him. He wasn't too young to use a weapon. He just had to be shown how. And lo and behold, Peter hadn't hurt anybody. Peter knew his own limits. And if he had shot himself, it wouldn't have been because he was too young. It would have been because he was careless or instructed improperly.

"Tony?" Peter said, jarring the genius from his thoughts.

"Sorry, Spider-kid."

"Aw, I want to be Spider-Man!" he complained.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You're seven. You hardly qualify as a man. You're not even a teen."

"Well _you're_ not a man and you're Iron Man. I want to be Spider-Man!"

"Maybe in a few years, Spider-kid."

* * *

"Hey, Steve," Pepper called, twisting on the couch to wave at the super-soldier as he entered the room. He seemed to be in a rush. "What's up?"

"Hi, Pepper. Sorry, duty calls. I have a mission. Wheels up in five and I can't remember where I put my damn shield," he said, clearly frustrated.

Tony frowned and turned around. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're not on this one."

There was an instant shift in the atmosphere. Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve and Pepper scooted away. She knew that look. They were going to fight again. Tony got along just fine with Bruce and especially with Peter, but him and Steve just butted heads too much. Both of them weren't used to backing down, and they just couldn't handle each other. Pepper really wished Tony would at least try to be nice, though.

"Why not?" Tony demanded coolly.

"You know why. Coulson thinks you shouldn't be on any missions for a while after what happened at the Parker's," Steve said, still looking around for his shield. Pepper knew it was laying on a stool by the island, but she didn't want to interrupt.

"Coulson, or you?"

Steve frowned at the genius. "I recommended you be pulled, but it was Coulson's call. Can you blame me?"

"You're overreacting."

"What are you talking about?" Pepper said, looking between the two. They fought often, but this was about something important. And she wasn't sure what.

Steve looked at Tony in disbelief. "You didn't tell her? That's low, Stark."

"Stay out of this!" Tony snapped back.

Steve ignored him, turning towards Pepper. "Tony went crazy when we were extracting Peter. He cornered a HYDRA agent and beat him to a bloody pulp. I think he was trying to draw it out. I had to pull him off the man. I put the agent out of his misery. I don't think he would have ever recovered enough to be of any use to S.H.I.E.L.D. I told Coulson what happened, so now Tony is on leave from active duty."

Pepper froze. She couldn't compute what Steve had just told her. This had to have been nearly a month ago, why hadn't Tony told her, why hadn't anyone told her?

Steve found his shield and slung it on his back. "I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow. Probably."

Pepper had the decency to wait until Steve was out of the room before turning to Tony. She crossed her arms. "Start talking."

"I was doing my job. I was sent in to get Peter and to stop HYDRA. I did both. Steve and I are just having a disagreement over the morality of my actions. I'll clear it up with Agent when he gets back," Tony said, trying to shrug it off.

"You are a terrible liar, Tony Stark. Now tell me why you tortured that man before I come to my own conclusions."

"You would never think badly of me."

"Yes, I would. I did when I first found out how you killed all those terrorists. But then we talked, and you helped me understand. I haven't been in these situations, Tony. I don't understand the desire to kill or harm or get revenge. So I need you to help me. Please. I want to be on your side."

Tony scowled. "That was not a good man, Pepper. He was a HYDRA pawn, a Nazi, and he'd come to kidnap a seven year old with powers to make him into a weapon. For all I know he was the one who pulled the trigger and killed the kid's aunt and uncle. But I'll never forget how Peter sounded when he found their bodies. Or how their blood coated his hands and pants from kneeling next to them, begging them to come back to him. So, yes, I took my time. Yes, I made sure that man suffered. But he deserved it. He deserved it for making Peter go through that."

Pepper felt conflicted. She understood. She understood why Tony had got so angry. He wanted to save everyone, so he was always upset when there were unplanned casualties. And seeing a little boy grieving had no doubt exacerbated his actions. But torture was still wrong. Tony of all people should know that. She wasn't sure whether to comfort him or scold him.

"Do you hate me?" Tony asked softly.

"No. I can't hate you. I don't know. I wish you would have talked to me, or someone, about this. I don't think it's healthy to be that angry all the time."

"My anger is all I have. Its how I survived."

In that cave. Somehow everything always led back to that cave.

"Maybe. But you need to start living."

* * *

"Why isn't Pepper here?" Peter asked.

Tony, Bruce, and Peter were all eating dinner at the kitchen island. It wasn't the most impressive meal, since none of them could cook, but it was edible. Mainly leftovers and some noodles Tony had succeeded in boiling. Steve usually cooked for them, or sometimes Coulson. They technically had the option to have one of the Facility's staff cook for them, but they never asked. All the people who worked there, except Rhodey and Sam, hated to be around the Avengers because of their reputation as freaks and dangers. Most of the staff didn't even know they were children, as they were so rarely seen, which was what they preferred.

Tony twirled his noodles. "We're kind of having a fight."

"What about?" Peter asked, cocking his head.

"Eat your food, Pete," Bruce ordered gently, obviously trying to divert the child's attention.

"No, its okay, Brucie, I don't mind," Tony said. "Pepper found out about something I did on a mission, and we disagreed about the morality of it. Now we're just cooling down separately."

"What'd you do?"

"I killed a man."

Bruce grabbed his plate. "Okay, I think that's my cue to excuse myself. I'm going to eat down in the lab." He left rather quickly. He acted like even hearing violence would trigger him to transform. Normally Tony would stop him, but he hardly noticed Bruce leaving as he stared at Peter.

"But it was a bad guy, right?" Peter checked.

"Yep."

"Then why are you fighting?"

Tony chuckled darkly. "She thinks I could have handled it a bit better. I went for a messy kill instead of a clean one. I was upset at the time."

"Why?"

"Because we'd just met. And they tried to hurt you. So I hurt them. But that's against S.H.I.E.L.D.'s code of conduct."

"So you're fighting with Pepper because of me?" Peter asked, clearly upset at the prospect.

"No. Jesus, no, it's not your fault, I promise. This is strictly between Pepper and me. I would do anything to keep you safe, Peter, whether or not it results in a little fight with Pepper, or a big fight with the US government. Don't you ever worry about that," Tony swore solemnly.

Peter grinned. "You're so serious."

"Yeah, it doesn't suit me, huh? Let's join Brucie in the lab, we can blow some stuff up."

* * *

 **Hey, guys! Sorry that this is a week late, but I just had a crazy two weeks and didn't have any time to get this chapter ready to post. Hopefully I'll be back on track from here on out.**

 **-Lady of Lorule**


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky felt that his entire life could be summed up in a single sentence: then it all went to shit.

His childhood wasn't great. His mom and dad had more kids than they could take care of and were constantly struggling to make rent. As such, Bucky hadn't found a lot of love or attention at home.

His later childhood had been improved greatly by the addition of one Steven Rogers in his life. They'd become best friends quickly, and Sarah Rogers had taken Bucky into her home like a second child. Steve was often sick, and Sarah appreciated having Bucky there to help out around the house and take care of her only child when she had to work.

That's when it went to shit again. Sarah Rogers had passed away, leaving no money and an apartment with a high rent behind for her fifteen year old son. Bucky, of course, wouldn't leave Steve to the mercy of the government, so they both got jobs and faked their ages to stay together, struggling to get by.

Things picked up again when they signed up for Project Rebirth. Suddenly they were being housed, clothed, and fed by the army, with the possibility of becoming the world's first super-soldier. Bucky, although not the most academic person, loved science, and the idea of a super-soldier thrilled him. He himself wasn't very interested in getting picked to try and untested serum, but he figured the money they were giving him to go through the rigorous training was worth the risk. He didn't like the idea of Steve becoming a super-soldier either, but he knew he wouldn't be able to talk that little punk out of doing it. Steve was too stubborn.

So Bucky made his own arrangements. To his surprise, he'd excelled at the military training and had been offered a spot at S.H.I.E.L.D. He figured if he got a head start working for the organization and making his way up the ranks he might get to go on missions with Steve and watch that punk's back, because he would probably be just as reckless a super-soldier as he'd been an alley brawler. Plus, Bucky liked the work. It was every kid's dream to grow up to be a bad-ass secret agent, and now he was one. He liked the work S.H.I.E.L.D. was doing. He liked the unit he was paired with, the Howling Commandos.

Which brought Bucky up to his most current shitty moment in his life: He was pinned beneath a table on the ground in a burning building and his arm had just been sliced off.

The operation had gone so completely, horribly wrong so quickly that no one had been able to so much as radio for help. The comms were down, there were enemy agents everywhere, and he was losing a lot of blood quickly. His vision was going fuzzy, but he wasn't sure if that was because of the blood loss or the smoke that was clotting in his lungs. Vaguely, he thought he heard Jim Morita, one of the Commandos, calling his name, but it sounded far away.

Bucky cried out as a loud explosion shook the building, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Everything hurt. The bright lights that were burning his eyes as he struggled to open them hurt the most, but there was another burning in his shoulder that wasn't going away. His head felt groggy, and he tried to recall what had happened, why everything was so bright and hurt so much, but nothing came to him. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was laying on a medical table. No, correction, he was _strapped down_ to a medical table. Growing increasingly alarmed, he struggled against the restraints, but something odd was happening. He could only move one arm. What the hell…?

He gasped loudly as he looked to his left and instead of seeing an arm, there was only a mutilated stump below his shoulder.

Footsteps approached as he stayed trembling on the cot. "The Subject is awake," a man said in a distinctly German accent.

More footsteps. Bucky could only stare at his arm in disbelief, not even bothering to look up at the two men standing over him.

A second man spoke in a similar accent. "Good. I feared those brutes had damaged him beyond even my repair, but he seems to be alert. That is all I need to begin my work."

"Shall I fetch your tools, Doctor?"

"Yes. Be quick. I want to be able to move him to my own lab soon. I do not trust that S.H.I.E.L.D. will not find this base, especially if they did not find his body."

Bucky looked over at the man who the other had called Doctor. "What have you done to me?" he growled out in a low voice, promising violence in its unrestrained fury.

"Why, Sergeant Barnes, I have done nothing at all to you," the Doctor claimed, grinning maliciously down at him. He was portly man with a round head and ridiculous little glasses. "The damage to your form was caused by some careless agents. No matter. A suitable replacement can be found. No, the real question, Sergeant, is what am I _going_ to do to you, hmm?"

Bucky screamed out a series of increasingly disgusting words at the Doctor, but the man paid him no mind. He kept screaming until he heard the door close and footsteps disappear down a hallway. Then all he could do was lay on the cold, hard table and wait for the doctor to return, and try to not look at the stump that had been his arm.

* * *

Bucky had never believed in heaven or hell. He'd been an atheist his whole life, mostly because he didn't have the time or desire to go the church. But he now knew that, without a doubt, hell existed, and it wasn't some fiery realm under the land of the living. Hell was this endless torment, when time ceased to matter, pain was eternal, and mercy was nonexistent.

He didn't know how long it had been since Dr. Zola had first brought him to the windowless, bright lab. Unnaturally bright. Everything was white and pristine, or shiny metal, and the lights never turned off. Not once, nor did they dim. Even with his eyes closed, Bucky could only see white light. Not that he was often allowed to close his eyes. That was a luxury that required time, and as Zola worked, he prattled on endlessly about how they were out of time. Bucky could rarely focus on what the doctor was saying. He'd long ago given up hope of understanding what was going on. All that mattered now was surviving the next trial.

Zola was endlessly doing something to Bucky's restrained and weak body. He'd fused a metal arm onto the stub of Bucky's shoulder, and the smell of his own searing flesh had caused him to be sick all over himself. Bucky wasn't sure how long it had taken the doctor to adjoin the metal appendage to the scarred flesh, but it had felt like an eternity, and it had hurt, burned, every second of it. Now the arm hung loosely, unresponsive to anything Bucky tried, a painful weight dragging his shoulder down.

There were other things, things Bucky didn't even understand, but was subjected regularly to. For hours on end his eyes would be forced to stay open and stare endlessly at a dizzying screen of swirling black and white that hurt his eyes, but he couldn't close them. Zola would stand behind him and talk, talk as long as the image kept swirling. This was a regular occurrence, and each time it was just as painful as the last. That strange screen didn't just hurt his eyes, it hurt his very mind.

There were other torments that blended together in the long days. Needles and strange equipment that he wouldn't have been able to understand its usage even if he had been fully alert and healthy. Bucky felt weak all the time, always on the verge of collapse, but for some reason that was getting harder and harder to remember, he knew he mustn't. He knew he had to stay alert, and struggle, and ignore the grating voice of Zola as the doctor talked day after day. Everything was such a blur Bucky couldn't remember if he ever answered Zola, or even opened his mouth. Or if he hadn't talked since the first lab he'd woken up in.

When had that been? Bucky couldn't even hope to come up with an answer to that. He remembered lying on that table and feeling hopeful. Why? Someone had been coming to save him, he had known that, had faith that they were on their way to save him. Who? ... He couldn't remember who. He racked his mind, but he never came up with a name. They had been important to him, he remembered that. Wait, had it been one person, or a group? Who were they?

Why didn't he remember?

* * *

"We are ready, Dr. Zola," a woman said somewhere to Bucky's left.

He was strapped down to yet another table. Strangely, they had restrained the metal arm that wouldn't respond to him and had yet to move. His mind didn't dwell on that long. His eyes flickered around, seeing people but he couldn't seem to focus on any faces. His whole body felt wobbly, and weak. Even the voices, a constant murmur around him, seemed to be coming as if from far away. He was glad for the table for once. It kept him upright when his muscles finally betrayed him and he slumped, trembling.

"Sir, do you think it might be best to put off the test run for a few days?" a man said worriedly. "The Subject seems to be in substandard condition."

"All the better to see if my experiment truly succeeded! We test this today."

"Yes, sir. The soldiers are at the ready, and the facility is on lock down. We are ready to begin."

"Start the test."

Bucky's eyes flickered open as a man stepped in front of him. He couldn't make out much, his vision was too blurry and his eyes too heavy, but he could tell the man was tall, and clutched in his hand was a small, red leather notebook with a black star on it. _How strange,_ he thought, before that small observation floated away.

"Longing. Rusted." A man was saying these words carefully, deliberately, and Bucky spasmed involuntarily. His alertness was coming back, but it didn't seem to matter. His body felt strange. It took a considerable amount of focus to even curl his finger, which was the most he could manage shackled like this. "Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine." His voice was getting louder, and Bucky was getting more alarmed. "Benign! Homecoming! One!"

Dread trickled down Bucky's spine.

" _Freight car."_

* * *

Two men. One tall, one short and fat. The second would be easy to dispatch, and the first looked fit, but unarmed. He held a book.

"Soldier?" the tall man asked. He noted the tone of hesitance and even worry in the man's voice.

The response bubbled up on his lips involuntarily. He somehow knew exactly what to say. Like a prerecorded message.

"Ready to comply."

* * *

"Steve? Get down here!" Tony's voice said, streaming through the bracelet on the super-soldier's wrist.

Steve, currently in the middle of lifting a thousand pound weight, grunted back, "I'm a little busy, Tony. Is this an emergency?"

He prayed to God that Tony hadn't blown up something again and Peter had been with him. It couldn't have been Bruce, because Steve would have noticed the Hulk rampaging through the Facility. Tony had better not just be pranking him either. The special bracelets Tony had designed at Coulson's request were meant for emergencies. They had trackers embedded in them, instantaneous communication links with the other Avenger's bracelets, and many devices that monitored the health of the wearer. Coulson had gotten the idea from the heart monitor that Bruce always wore.

"The program found a match. I might have a location on Barnes."

Steve dropped the weight, denting the floor, but he didn't even notice because he was already running out of the room. He'd never run so fast in his life. He was bursting through the door to Tony's garage in less than a minute. The genius was sitting at his elaborate computer set-up. Peter was sitting cross legged on the floor with some weird looking gadget, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he screwed a bolt. Peggy was sitting in a chair near Peter, watching him fondly. Steve hardly noticed his girlfriend as he marched straight over to Tony and looked at the monitor that had been searching for his best friend for months.

"What happened? Where is he?" Steve demanded.

"Cool down, Cap." Tony hit a few buttons and a picture appeared on the screen. It was grainy security footage of a teenager in dark sunglasses with his hoodie pulled up. Steve would recognize him anywhere though. It was Bucky. His hair was longer than Steve had ever seen it, brushing his shoulders, and he was pale. His best friend had always been tan from playing outside. He'd been MVP of their high school baseball team before they'd dropped out, and a natural at sports. "Camera at the American embassy in London picked this up this morning. The ambassador and his family were discovered dead in their bedrooms less than an hour later. No one remembers seeing him, but every intelligence community believes it was Barnes, and I'm inclined to agree."

Steve didn't acknowledge the genius's words. He seemed to be trying to memorize the picture, which was ridiculous, because the serum had given him perfect memory. One look and he'd be able to recall every detail of that picture thirty years from now.

Peggy's small hand settled on his shoulder, and he looked at her, clearly startled. He blinked, as if he had come out a trance. She just stared at him with her big brown eyes, but her expression was indecipherable. She was a good spy for that skill alone.

"Steve. That's the tenth case of murder attributed to Bucky in the last year. More than thirty people are listed as his kills." She looked sorrowful as she caressed his cheek. "I'm not sure S.H.I.E.L.D. will be able to help him anymore."

He backed away from her and shook his head. "No. Bruce and Tony have both killed people. S.H.I.E.L.D. took Tony in when he knowingly killed dozens of people. Bucky's a victim, I'm sure of it. He needs help, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s help."

"What?" Peter asked, and the other three stiffened and slowly turned to look at the seven year old. He had stood up, a misshapen screwdriver in his hand and stared at them with wide eyes. Steve wanted to swear, but that really wouldn't help things right now.

"Nothing, darling," Peggy said, sweeping over to the boy and hoisting him onto her hip. "I'm sorry, go back to your project. We'll get you a new screwdriver."

He didn't even seem to notice that he was still holding the mangled tool. He was frowning in Tony's direction. "But what did Steve say about Tony?"

The genius seemed to unfreeze. He gave the boy a charming grin. "Nothing, kid. Just reminiscing about old times. Why don't you go hang out with Bruce? Steve, Peg, and I have a case to work on and it might take a while. I don't want you to be bored."

"What a great idea," Peggy agreed, plucking the screwdriver from his small hand and tossing it aside. Peter must be really focused on Tony if his grip was so light. "Go find Bruce. We'll see you for dinner." She set him down and waved him out of the room. Peter still didn't look convinced, but he left.

Tony whirled on Steve. "Really, Rogers! Jesus, we said we weren't telling him everything until he's older! Do you want him to think of me as a murderer?!"

"You _are_ a murderer," Steve reminded him, turning towards the genius and clenching his hands.

"The kid doesn't need to know that!"

"That's it! Stop it, both of you!" Peggy yelled, stepping between them and shoving them apart. They glared at each other over her head. "You're acting like children! Now behave yourselves!"

Steve looked down at his girlfriend in disbelief, but she meet his gaze with steely eyes. He huffed, but walked away. She kept her hand on Tony's chest until the genius also walked away. They were both clearly upset, but at least a brawl didn't seem imminent. That was one crisis averted. Which left the real problem.

"Now that we have a match on Barnes, it will be easier for the server to track him," Peggy said, mostly repeating what Tony had told her of the system. "I'll contact Coulson so that he can send a team after Barnes. Hopefully, they'll be able to bring him into custody. We'll have to work from there. Steve," he looked over at her, blank faced, "that's the best I can do."

He nodded, not looking at anyone in the room. Then he left.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to go alone?" Peggy asked, her brow scrunched in a way he found adorable. He loved the little ways she showed concern for him, even though he was a nearly indestructible super-soldier.

He kissed her forehead, then finished shrugging on his coat. "I'm sure. It's kind of personal. And I like the solitude. Gives me time to think without hearing something blow up downstairs."

At that exact moment she heard a small explosion go off and the floor shook. Perfect timing. She laughed a little. When he made to draw away she placed a hand on his cheek and drew him in for a gentle kiss on the lips. Steve smiled at her eagerness and tried to deepen it, but then she shoved him away.

"None of that, or else you'll never leave," she scolded.

"Then I'm inclined to stay."

She laughed at the attempt at flirting. Steve was adorably sweet and terribly inexperienced at relationships. It was more endearing than she would have guessed.

"Go," she repeated with mock sternness. He grinned, kissed her cheek, and then left.

She sighed and collapsed back on his bed. She didn't want him visiting his mother's grave all alone, but if that's what he wanted, then she would let him. Not that he'd be alone, exactly. As an Avenger, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would be following him wherever he went, making sure there wouldn't be a public incident, but that wasn't the same as having a friend there for support. Steve visited his mother's grave often, and he always turned down company, so while she wasn't surprised, she was disappointed.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Sam asked, sitting casually on a bench in the cemetery.

Steve sat down next to him. He wore a hoodie, baseball hat, and sunglasses, trying to be inconspicuous, or at least unidentifiable to any camera he may pass, all of which Tony would be able to access to track him down. There were small cuts on his face that were healing before Sam's eyes.

"Good. I may have crashed my motorcycle though." That explained the cuts. "Which might be a good thing. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew the plate number. Shame though. I did like that bike."

"We'll get you another if we don't wind up in prison. Let's go. My car is around the corner, and we have a flight in two hours."

"Not fast enough."

"It's the best we can do, since you didn't want to steal any S.H.I.E.L.D. planes." They reached a small, plain looking car. There were probably thousands of that model on the roads. Sam slipped into the driver's seat and Steve lowered his hulking frame into the passenger's seat.

"I know," Steve said, clearly frustrated, but trying not to take it out on Sam. "But we need to beat the entire world to Bucky. That doesn't leave us with much time."

"I don't know why you won't just leave this to S.H.I.E.L.D. Peggy said they're doing everything they can."

"I know." Steve leaned his forehead against the window. "But I can't stay out of this. Bucky was everything to me. He's all I have left."

Sam didn't bother to try to understand. He trusted Steve, which was the only reason he'd agreed to this mad plan. He always firmly believed that the only way to save Steve from himself was to help him with his madness.

* * *

The Soldier blended in with the crowd, moving steadily through the busy market square. He looked like one of the many teenagers in the market, except that they weren't clutching a knife in their pocket. He adjusted his grip as the Target came within sight. The woman at the stall selling expensive jewelry matched the profile he'd been given perfectly. He didn't know why the KGB wanted her dead, or why HYDRA had sent him to kill her instead, but he didn't hesitate. Not even when a young boy hugged the Target, kissing her cheek before running off.

"Hello, dear," she said in a chipper voice, giving him a dimpled smile. "What can I help you with? Have you come to find something for a girlfriend, perhaps?"

He shook his head and made to move past her, to the stall just behind hers. As they passed he bumped into her, and in that tiny, infinitesimal second, his knife darted out and pierced her solidly in the side. Then he kept walking, as if nothing had happened. He was already halfway across the market and moving fast when her body hit the ground and the first person screamed.

The killing wouldn't be traced back to him. The murder weapon had been left in her body, and there would be no fingerprints on it. He always wore gloves on covert operations, to hid the metal monstrosity that would garner too much attention, which had the additional benefit of leaving no trace behind, not that any organization had his fingerprints. He had no doubt the kill would be credited to him, however. The thought slid out of his head, replaced by the sudden urgency to get to the rendezvous point.

He made his way down the increasingly empty streets. He shed his coat and untied his hair as he went, popping on a pair of sunglasses. Even those simple changes made him look like a whole different man than had been in the market minutes earlier.

He was about halfway to the rendezvous, right on schedule. For some reason, a chill crept up his neck as he walked through a residential area. Something was off. He couldn't pinpoint what, but something was wrong. His speed increased slightly, but the feeling didn't go away. There was no one there. It was the middle of a Thursday, everyone would be at school or work. There were barely any cars parked in front of the picturesque houses.

In fact, there were no cars at all in the street.

He frowned, fingering the guns tucked into a hidden holster on his legs. Under his plain red shirt he wore his typical tactical wear, but it only reassured him a little. Someone must have blocked traffic. Not a single car had rumbled by him in two minutes. Ambush. Someone was clearing out civilian casualties, meaning it was probably government orchestrated. No other group would bother with civilians, or have the authority to redirect traffic. His hand closed around a gun, and he ducked behind a tree just in time as the first rain of bullets pelted the sidewalk where he'd been standing.

He tapped his sunglasses and a display appeared, picking out all heat signatures in the area for him. He spotted at least twenty people on the rooftops in front of him, probably waiting to drop down and engage him once the snipers were done. With bullets still pelted the tree providing him cover it was too dangerous for him to look that way and determine how many people were shooting at him from that direction, but from how rapidly the gunfire was coming, he was fairly certain there were about five snipers, maybe only four.

The Soldier yanked one gun from his holster and left the limited cover the tree was providing, spinning to shot at the snipers. He nailed two, but he could still see two more. Shielding his head with his metal arm, he ran over and ducked behind a car. Glass rained down on him as the windows were shot out. He pulled out his second gun and as soon as the gunfire slowed, jumped up and eliminated the last two snipers. He knew he'd hit because the heavy rain of bullets finally relented, but he was certain someone would take up their place soon.

So he ran.

A helicopter whirled overhead, and a quick glance confirmed it was a news chopper. But the agents who had been hiding on the rooftops were rappelling down and firing at him. They began giving chase, but they didn't have a chance. He could outrun cars, and they were weighed down by their large guns and heavy tactical gear. He pulled a grenade from his pocket and tossed it behind him, right into the thick of the men chasing him. He heard their terrified screaming and then a loud explosion.

He was reaching the barricade they'd set up at the end of the street, complete with police, secret service, and even a tank. He wasn't foolish enough to think they'd actually blow up a residential neighborhood, which was partially why he'd chosen this route to get to his rendezvous point. They were being cautious, and he wasn't. Still, even he didn't like the odds of bursting through that blockade with the few guns and singular grenade he had left on him. They also probably had a secondary perimeter, and had an increased military and law enforcement presence in the entire area.

A strange noise above him had him looking up just in time to see an unfamiliar figure falling from the sky, heading right towards him. He leapt back and a man rolled to a stand right where the Soldier had been standing. The Soldier took a second to note that the man was muscular, tall, wore a blue uniform, and had a circular shield on his arm. Then he fired at the man, who stumbled back, but blocked all the shots with his shield.

"Bucky, stop," the man said. The Soldier frowned. His voice sounded familiar… but it didn't matter. He needed to eliminate this man and get to the rendezvous. He was already late, he didn't want to disappoint his masters any further.

A knife appeared in the Soldier's hand and he lunged at the man. The knife scrapped down the shield, grating at his ears, and then he stumbled back as the man rammed the shield forward. He recovered quickly and delivered a series of blows that managed to knock the man's shield away from his body, giving him an opening to plunge the knife towards his chest. Bullets started raining down from above and the Soldier had to pull back to block the shots with his arms.

A man wearing some sort of engineered wings was shooting down at the two men fighting on the ground, separating them with a steady stream of bullets. The man in blue waved his arms and yelled, "Sam, go! Take care of the others, I got this!"

The wing man disappeared, and the Soldier took advantage of the blue man's preoccupation to tackle him to the ground. They went down, hard, and the Soldier straddled his opponent, attempting to choke him. The man struggled against him and managed to knock away his hands. He attempted to get on top, but instead they went tumbling over and over, both sides unable to get the advantage on the other. The knife and one of the Soldier's guns went tumbling onto the pavement, out of reach, as they grappled.

"Bucky, please, stop! It's me, it's Steve!" the man, Steve apparently, grunted out, but didn't lessen his efforts.

His voice really did sound familiar. The Soldier wondered if he'd met this man before. It didn't seem possible, and he couldn't remember this man, but then again, he didn't remember much of anything. His masters assured him this was normal.

His head snapped to the side as the man landed a punch. That gave his opponent an opportunity to get on top of him, where he pinned him down with an impressive amount of strength. The Soldier got his metal arm free and pried the shield of the man's arm, tossing it away. There, they were both unarmed. He tried to knock the blue man off, but he was unyielding, keeping the Soldier's legs pinned expertly. He struggled harder as the man managed to pin his metal arm down, crushing the intricate workings. The Soldier let out an involuntary yell of pain.

"Bucky, please, I don't want to fight you," the man said, sounding close to tears. "But I can't just leave. I'm with you to the end of the line."

The Soldier stopped fighting altogether. He was positive he'd heard someone say that before.

The man raised his shield, which he'd somehow retrieved, and brought it down on the Soldier's head.

* * *

"On your knees!" a voice commanded, pouring in via megaphone.

Steve raised his head, trembling with exhaustion, his shield scraping against the ground. He was still straddling Bucky's now unconscious form, but Sam had stopped providing cover so now the many other agents were closing in around Steve and Bucky, guns raised. He looked at them and tumbled off of Bucky, letting his shield drop. He knelt as commanded and put his hands on his head. Two agents grabbed him roughly and pressed him to the ground. He complied, gritting his teeth. This was the first time he'd felt true physical pain since getting the serum.

"Stay down, and don't try anything," one of the agents hissed in his ear. "We have authorization to shoot."

He was too out of breath to answer. It was an uncomfortable position, but he didn't care. Bucky wasn't dead. Out of the corner of his eye Steve could see them shackling up Bucky cautiously, as if they thought he was going to spring to life. Steve felt bad for the giant gash he'd left on Bucky's head, but it was that or a bullet. He had a pretty good idea of which one his friend would have preferred, if given the choice.

"Leave him to me, boys," a woman said in a British accent. A very familiar British accent.

"Ma'am, we have this situation under control, if you could please back away—"

Steve smiled at the concrete. That was the wrong thing to say.

"I am Agent Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D. Unless you would like to take it up with the Director, I suggest you allow me to deal with him."

His grin slipped. It was never a good thing when she said she had to deal with something. Especially when that something was himself.

He heard the men walk away. Steve twisted into a sitting position and stared up at the icy face of Peggy Carter, who was pointing a gun directly at his forehead.

"Hello, dear," she said, and Steve actually winced at her tone. "I trust you had a nice time at your mother's grave?"

"I love you?" he tried, hoping to soften her up a little.

He might as well have said that to Fury for all the good it did. "I do actually have the authority to shoot you right now. I suggest you not piss me off even further."

* * *

Bucky's head was spinning. A groan slipped out as he pushed himself upright. He felt a coarse blanket under his hand. Upon closer examination, he decided he was sitting on a cot, and after looking around the sparse, windowless room, he concluded that he was in a jail cell. For some reason, this didn't surprise or concern him. He walked over to the mirror that was likely one-way glass and examined himself. He lifted a hand to brush the bandage on his forehead and hissed in pain. Still tender.

Then he noticed the metal arm. Everything came flooding back to him.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself. He whirled around as he heard a click.

"You're awake," Steve said, staring at him in disbelief.

Bucky was also staring. It was Steve, and it wasn't. It was Steve, if Steve had suddenly grown a foot, put on a shit-ton of muscles, and could grow facial hair. This was the Steve that might had existed if his own body hadn't been trying to kill him his entire life. Tall, strong, and handsome. Bucky had always been attracted to his best friend, but this version was definitely hotter.

"What the hell?" Bucky said softly, almost to himself.

"Language," the hotter version of Steve said with a little mischievous grin that decided it for Bucky. This was Steve. No one else could even come close to that expression of joy and roguishness that he only got when he was sharing a moment with Bucky.

"Steve." He strode over to him determinedly, not sure whether he was going to hug him, kiss him, or shake him and demand answers. Maybe all three.

But Steve stepped back and held up a hand. Bucky stopped immediately and frowned. Was he worried that Bucky would hurt him? He would never do that. But his twisted memories bubbled up and with horror, he realized he _had_ hurt Steve. They'd fought each other. Steve was the one who had split open Bucky's head.

"We can't touch." He held up his wrists, showing Bucky two metal bracelets. Looking down at his own arms, he realized he was wearing them too, even on his metal arm. "If we get within two inches of each other we'll both get an electric shock intended to knock us out. I'd rather not risk it."

"Because I'm dangerous?"

"No. Because we're both prisoners," Steve explained.

Bucky gaped at him. "How the hell did you end up in prison with me?"

New Steve grimaced, but he somehow made it look handsome. "It's kind of a long story. Short version is that they wanted to kill you, I snuck out, knocked you out instead, convinced them to give you a fair trial, succeeded, but ended up here anyways because I pissed my friends off, and apparently my friends have the authority to throw me in jail."

Bucky could honestly only understand about half of what Steve was saying, but he got the gist of it. Trying to be a hero, Steve had acted like an idiot and wound up in jail. Well, it seems whatever had happened to his body hadn't changed his personality one bit. Would've been nice if he could have gotten some common sense along with all those muscles. Bucky sat down on his bunk and tried to focus on what was actually happening.

"You shouldn't have tried to save me," he whispered.

Steve looked at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?! They would have killed you, Buck!"

"You should have let them."

"No, no way! You're my best friend. I couldn't stay out of it."

"I killed a lot of people, Steve," Bucky whispered, looking at the floor.

He felt the cot shift as Steve sat next to him, but not close enough to set off their cuffs. He wanted nothing more than to lean on him, but instead he stayed still, blinking back tears.

"That wasn't you. They made you do all that."

"I know. But I still did it."

Steve had nothing to say to that.

* * *

Bucky was led out of his cell for the first time three days after he woke up. The only other breaks he'd gotten to the monotony of his cell was the hour every day when Steve would be let in, always in those stupid bracelets. But maybe Bucky didn't deserve comfort after what he'd done. He wouldn't be surprised if he was being led to the execution chamber right now. He couldn't blame anybody for wanting him dead.

He kind of wanted himself dead.

Their faces swam through his dreams and woke him up in the middle of the night. The woman from the market, the nice Wakandan ambassador, and so many more. All the lives he'd ended under HYDRA's orders. Did it really matter that he hadn't wanted to do it? It was still his hand that had killed so many people, innocent bystanders and family members included. Wouldn't his life be a fair price to pay for his crimes?

He was brought into a room that was definitely not an execution chamber. It was an office, one that he recognized instantly. Sitting behind behind a desk with a name plaque that read _Director Fury_ was an intimidating man with an eye patch who unnerved Bucky more than any other person had in his entire life. There were two chairs in front of the desk, one occupied by a middle aged man in a neat suit and someone he actually recognized. Agent Peggy Carter.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," Peggy said, looking just as beautiful as usual, but there was something off. He couldn't place it at first, but then it struck him. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she'd been crying, but she'd covered it up expertly with make-up. "Please, join us. May I introduce you to Agent Coulson and Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D?"

Both were names he recognized from his time working with the Howling Commandos. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. at least knew of the formidable Director Fury, and Coulson was his right hand man, controlling enormous, and often secretive, projects of the organization. He couldn't understand why they had brought him to what appeared to be a very important and highly classified meeting. The agents who'd brought him left the room abruptly, closing the doors tightly behind them.

"How old are you, Barnes?" Fury asked, his eye trained with uncomfortable intensity on the prisoner. He still wore his cuffs, and he was fairly certain the little knob resting on the massive desk controlled them. A man like Fury knew to take precautions.

Bucky actually paused. "I'm sorry, what's the date?" He didn't know. All his memories under HYDRA were warped and messy. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.

Peggy frowned, but supplied the date. Bucky frowned. Nearly two years. Not great, but better than what he'd started imagining in his panic, especially considering how much Steve had changed in that time.

"I'm seventeen, sir." Soon to be eighteen, actually, but he had a feeling the Director wouldn't care about that.

"Seventeen. So you, like your friend Rogers, also lied on your form."

Bucky swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Fury snorted. "Fantastic. I'm so glad a couple of teenagers were able to fool what is supposedly my intelligence organization."

"Rogers has admitted that Dr. Erskine helped forge their documents to get them into his program," the man, Agent Coulson, supplied. "Since the doctor is dead, we can't really punish him for it."

"Damn that man. He was a brilliant asset, but his death provided us with more problems than I ever could have imagined." Fury turned his attention back to Bucky. "We found evidence that you were brainwashed into working for HYDRA. This puts me in a difficult position. On one hand, you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and you were taken in the line of duty. On the other hand, multiple nations are calling for your immediate imprisonment and/or execution because of your actions under HYDRA's control."

Bucky stayed silent. Fury leaned back and said, "Which is why I've come up with a third option."

Peggy frowned and looked over at her boss. "Sir?"

"He's a minor and clearly believed to be a threat to society. So I say we put him with the rest. Move him to the Facility, keep it under wraps."

Bucky had no clue what they were talking about other than that they were talking about him. But Coulson and Peggy clearly understood, and neither seemed pleased.

"Sir, I really don't know if that would be a smart move right now. Wakanda has already been pressuring us to turn him over to their custody, and you know of the relation the royal family has to the Facility. It would be extremely difficult to keep this quiet if Barnes were to encounter the royal family," Coulson explained, his brow creased in concern.

"I agree, Sir," Peggy said. "Additionally, I worry for the possible rifts that could arise among the Avengers if Barnes is placed in their midst."

"Explain," Fury ordered, looking at the young woman.

She swallowed, but was perfectly composed when she said, "Steve Rogers has already proven to be irrational with matters concerning Barnes. And unfortunately, we don't know the extent of the brainwashing Barnes underwent. Placing him in one of our most secure facilities with some of our most dangerous assets is ill advised. I hate to say that Barnes quite simply might be too volatile." She looked over at Bucky guiltily. "I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat. "Don't be. Those are valid concerns. I don't understand what HYDRA did to me, and I'm not smart enough to figure out how they hijacked my brain. I don't know if they could do it again."

"Which is why, Agent Carter, I _want_ to send him to the Facility," Fury said and all eyes turned back to him. "Banner is the best doctor we have, and Mr. Stark isn't far behind. And I trust they will be properly motivated considering Barnes's relation to Rogers, so I have full confidence they'll be able to come up with a solution to HYDRA's mind control. A cure."

"Is that possible?" Peggy asked breathlessly, echoing Bucky's thoughts.

Fury shrugged. "Hell if I know. But if anyone can do it, it'll be Banner and Stark. Prepare a Quinjet. I want Barnes in the Facility by morning. Agent Carter, you'll accompany him. Agent Coulson, I need you here to deal with the Wakandan situation."

"Yes, sir," she said, standing and grabbing Bucky's arm. He allowed her to lead him out of the room.

"What's happening?" he asked as they entered an elevator.

"Short story is that I'm bringing you to a facility upstate where we hope two very smart men will be able to undo whatever HYDRA did to your head."

"Okay. And the long story?"

"Steve will be there, but so will other people and they may not be so hospitable to your arrival. Also, the Wakandans have declared that they are in charge of apprehending and punishing you because you involuntarily murdered multiple Wakandans. The royal family of Wakanda has ties with the Facility, so your presence there may cause an international incident."

He looked over at her disbelievingly. "How is this a good plan?"

"Its not. But I'm afraid Steve's already made it clear that he will go after you again if we remove you from S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. At this point we're just trying to do damage control."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, looking down.

"Don't be. None of this was your choice either." She touched his arm gently and he looked up at her. "I am glad you're back."

* * *

"We're here," Peggy announced. She held a small fob and pressed a button. The bracelets around Bucky's wrists clattered to the floor.

"Finally," he sighed, rolling his human wrist. There was a thick line on his arm where the bracelet had rested.

He followed Peggy out of the aircraft. It was dusk, probably four in the morning or so, and there was just enough light for him to make out the vast property they were on. They were standing on a large airfield, with multiple other planes and jets gleaming behind them. In the far distance he could see a tall fence encircling the entire property as far as he could see, with multiple structures lining the fence. They looked like guard houses. Just before him there was a shining white and gray mansion surrounded by perfect green lawns, complete with a large pool.

"Welcome to the Avengers Facility," she said, smiling at the mansion. Two men were jogging in the distance, getting closer and closer. Bucky couldn't make out who they were as they were back lit by the sun. "Where S.H.I.E.L.D. places all our unique minors."

Bucky frowned. She'd told him a bit about what the Avengers program was, but she hadn't said who was in it, besides Steve. "Is it really safe for me to be around kids?"

"No. But it is safe for you to be around _these_ kids." She turned and looked at the joggers. "Hello, darling."

Bucky grinned as Steve and another guy slowed to a stop before them. They both wore workout clothes, but only the guy was drenched in sweat. Steve looked pristine, like he'd just rolled out of bed. The serum had clearly done wonders for his best friend. This was the first time Bucky had ever seen Steve run more than a hundred yards without getting an asthma attack.

"Morning, Peg," Steve said, his eyes flickering back to Bucky.

"I was talking to Sam," she told him innocently. The guy, Sam, busted up.

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, smiling. "I want to show you around. It's not our apartment in Brooklyn—"

"That can only be a good thing," he interjected.

Steve smiled, but persevered. "—but I think you'll like it."

"Lead the way."


	11. Chapter 11 (Interlude)

"So what exactly are you doing?" Bucky asked in fascination as two teenage boys attached a variety of different instruments to his body.

The shorter of the two boys, a kid with glasses who had a habit of not making eye contact, looked at him in surprise. "We're, uh, running tests. Blood test, reflex test, cognitive test… We want to compare it to the stats S.H.I.E.L.D. had on you from before you were, uh...yeah."

"We're trying to pinpoint if HYDRA's mind control physically altered your brain or if it's a psychological problem," the other boy added. Bucky frowned at his tone. He sounded kind of bitter.

"Tony," Steve said sharply. He'd been sitting in a chair in the corner, trying to stay out of the way, but clearly he hadn't liked the boy's tone any more than Bucky had.

The boy whirled around and glared at Steve with a surprising amount of hostility. For being significantly shorter and definitely not as strong, Tony looked like he really wanted to beat up Steve. For his part, Steve just met his gaze. The other boy, Bruce, set down what he was holding and backed away.

"I'm doing you a favor, Cap," Tony sneered. "That's all I've been doing for you for goddamn two years now! And where's my thanks?! No, instead, you bring your assassin boyfriend into my house!"

Steve stood up. "I told you, Fury sent him here. Now if you're not going to be helpful, you should go. Bruce doesn't need your help with this anyways."

"Please leave me out of this," Bruce whispered.

Tony turned on him. "Not you, too! God, Bruce, show a spine for once!"

"Tony!" Steve yelled, then sighed, clearly regretting giving Tony the satisfaction of raising his voice. "Please just go. You're only making things worse."

The boy bristled even further, but the angry retort died on his lips as the door to the lab opened, revealing a very confused looking little boy. The four teenagers stared at him in shock. Bucky, especially, didn't understand why a six year old kid was in a top secret government facility, much less in a mad science lab.

"Kid, what are you doing down here?" Tony said, and Bucky gaped at him. His tone had abruptly changed from bitter to blithe, though there was an undercurrent of frustration. It was like he was a whole different person.

The kid wrung his hands. "I finished my lesson early and—"

"Nevermind," he interrupted, walking over to the kid. "Let's go. I thought Pepper was watching you."

"Who's that?" the kid asked, staring straight at Bucky, completely ignoring the very insistent hand Tony had on his shoulder, trying to shove him out the door.

"Kid, we're going now," Tony ordered and the kid reluctantly turned around. They left the room, the door clicking closed.

"Who was that?" Bucky asked, looking at Steve.

His best friend's jaw was clenched. "That was Peter."

"Okay, I more meant why is there a six year old here."

"He's seven, and its kind of a long story." Steve dropped back into his chair and rubbed his temples. Bucky held his tongue. He could tell he wouldn't be getting anything else out of him right now. Bruce returned and finished taking off the small tabs he'd stuck to his head.

"The brain scan is done. That's all I need right now."

Bucky stood up, grateful to stretch. He'd been sitting in the lab for hours now, and it had not been very comfortable. Bruce and Tony had mostly talked to each other as they worked. Steve had only arrived a half hour ago, but he hadn't been particularly talkative. It had made for perhaps the most awkward atmosphere Bucky had been in in his entire life.

"Thanks," Bucky said, nodding at Bruce.

"No problem. We might not have any results for a while." The doctor hesitated, then added, "I know Tony seems like a total asshole, but he's like that with everyone he doesn't know. I'm not trying to excuse his actions, but maybe keep an open mind about him."

Steve snorted doubtfully. Bruce grinned. "Ah, I know you like him, Cap."

"Not too much right now." Steve stood. "Let's go, Buck. I'm sure you're starving."

Indeed, he was. He'd had to skip breakfast for some reason to do with the tests Bruce and Tony had been running. Steve knew him so well.

"Hey, speaking of food, are Peggy and Coulson coming tonight? It's been awhile since they came to dinner," Bruce said, closing a drawer.

Bucky frowned as his best friend turned away. "No, uh, Peggy isn't coming. I don't know about Coulson."

"Are you two fighting?"

"No. We just broke up." Steve sucked in a sharp breath. "So, I don't think she'll be coming around for a while."

Bucky could tell Bruce was sincerely regretting asking that question. Steve didn't notice, nor did he notice the way Bucky had froze in place. He simply cleared his throat and left the room, leaving the two of them behind.

Bucky hadn't even known Peggy and Steve were dating.

* * *

"Hey, punk," Bucky said, leaning in the doorway of Steve's room. He regretted not knocking when he realized he'd intruded on Steve changing. The super-soldier turned towards him, shirtless, giving Bucky an excellent view of his new six-pack.

"Buck. What's up?"

He frowned at the unusual note in Steve's voice. He was trying to sound chipper, but it fell a little flat. That, and there was a fist sized hole in the wall near him and dust on his hand. He _really_ should have knocked.

"Uh, I just wanted to see if you were doing alright. About Peggy." He licked his lips and tried to grin.

Steve looked down at the floor as he said, "You don't have to dance around it."

"What?" he asked, not following.

"I know you're mad. We had a thing, or something, and I didn't even tell you I was dating Peggy. I'm sorry, I should have said something, you have every right to be upset—"

" _Steve,"_ Bucky interrupted, and his friend met his eyes nervously as he enunciated, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Steve opened and closed his mouth, his brow creasing. The tried again, this time with words. "I thought you would be mad."

"That you were in a relationship with Peggy, or that you didn't tell me, or both?"

"Both."

Bucky grinned at the mildly terrified look on Steve's face. There was the punk kid who always threw himself into fights and only got scared when Bucky was waiting for him to explain himself. This was the Steve he had been expecting, not the muscled S.H.I.E.L.D. officer who'd been sitting in the lab today. Which was why Bucky walked over and wrapped his fingers through Steve's. He jumped at the contact, but didn't pull away, which Bucky took as a good sign.

"You thought I might be dead or an enemy agent. Both are perfectly acceptable reasons to assume our relationship had ended and you were free to move on. Peggy is a beautiful, awesome woman, and also capable of dealing with your bullshit, so of course I'm not mad you two dated. Now I'll admit I don't know why you didn't tell me you were dating her, but I'm sure you have your reasons, which I'm willing to hear whenever you're ready."

Steve let out a little breathless laugh and met Bucky's eyes. "I should've known you'd say that. I was always the dramatic one." Bucky's lips quirked up. "And I didn't tell you because I'm a coward. It never seemed like the right time, which sounds lame, but you kind of had bigger problems than the fact I was dating Peggy. Once you came here I knew Tony, Bruce, or Peter would blab, but I didn't say anything. I should have. I was scared you'd be mad at me."

"Well, I'm not. And I'm not expecting anything from you either, if you were worried about that."

For a second, Steve didn't say anything, just stared at Bucky. Right as Bucky began to fear he'd said the wrong thing, Steve's lips crashed on his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Bucky only gave himself a moment to appreciate Steve had clearly had some experience since they'd last kissed before he broke away, breathing heavily.

"Wait," he groaned, meeting Steve's eyes, which had darkened. "Are you sure we should be doing this? You're not just upset about Peggy?"

Steve grinned. "Buck, she broke up with me because she could tell I was still in love with you and was being too much of a gentleman to dump her."

"Say that again," he breathed out.

Steve knew exactly what he meant. "I love you."

Bucky started the kiss this time. They had a lot of lost time to make up for, and Bucky had to rediscover Steve's body. It started out frantic, a clash of mouths and swollen lips, but then Steve flipped them around and shoved Bucky onto the bed. He lowered himself slowly and when he pressed his lips to Bucky's the kiss was slower, gentle, and maddeningly sweet. Bucky moaned as Steve started leaving a trail of taunting, biting kisses down his neck.

He'd had enough. Steve was doing excellently, but Bucky wanted to take things a little faster. As Steve seemed content at the pace he was going, Bucky decided to take matters into his own hands: i.e, he started pulling Steve's shirt off, and the super-soldier seemed very amenable to this. Just as Bucky discarded the unwanted garment, a ring sounded through the room.

Steve frowned and rolled over so that he was sitting on the bed. Bucky sat up and scooted next to him, peeking over his broad shoulder. He didn't think he'd ever get used to Steve being the same height as him.

"What is it?" Bucky asked.

Steve stared at the phone in his phone. "Coulson is texting me."

"It can't be serious if he'd texting."

"He only texts when he doesn't want Peter to overhear classified information," he replied, his mouth a grim line. Bucky knew that look. Steve knew what he needed to do, but he didn't want to do it. Bucky decided to spare him the guilt.

He kissed Steve's neck and said, "Go."

The super-soldier frowned at him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have responsibilities. I understand." Steve looked relieved at his words, so Bucky added, "But this isn't over."

"No, its not," he agreed, pressing one remorseful, lingering kiss to his best friend's lips before getting up and leaving the room.

Well, that made one thing in Bucky's life that didn't suck.

* * *

"What are the results, doc?" Bucky asked as he popped onto the patient bed in what he'd learned was called the Medbay. It was a full on hospital set-up in the basement of the Facility between the lab and the garage. Steve had mentioned that there was an actual medical team attached to the Facility, but Bucky had never seen anyone besides Bruce or Tony working down there. From what he could tell, all the Avengers were pretty averse to having anyone so much as set foot in their mansion, even most S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel.

Bucky would have been skeptical about having a doctor younger than himself, except that Bruce was clearly a genius. A brief look through the fourteen year old's file had been enough to discover that. All kinds of scientific awards, grants and scholarships. He'd even started at Culver University, one of the best colleges in the country, as a thirteen year old. That was impressive. And now at fourteen he was nearly the entire science and technology department at S.H.I.E.L.D.

"There's no physical change to your brain that any of our programs have been able to identify," Bruce said, his glasses reflecting the writing on the holographic screen he was immersed in. That had been another pleasant surprise. The technology at the Facility was far beyond anything Bucky could have imagined, and in abundance. His inner science geek loved it, even if he wasn't very interested in actually understanding the science behind the tech.

"Is that good?"

Bruce sighed. "Yes and no. If there had been a physical change, it would have taken brain surgery to correct, and that's always risky. But now we don't know what HYDRA did to you, so…"

"We're back at square one," Bucky said, then grimaced.

"More like square two. We've narrowed the list slightly, and I'll certainly keep looking into it, but Bucky, I don't know if we'll be able to help you anymore. Not without knowing at least what method HYDRA used to control you. Is there anything you can remember that you might have left out in your report?"

He shuddered, remembering the ten hours straight he had spent reliving as many details as he could about what he'd done under HYDRA's control to a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Bruce must have had access to that report, which he supposed made sense. Bruce was his doctor, after all, even if he looked like a high school freshman.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said softly, looking down. His long hair filled his peripheral vision. "Some things are so clear. My missions, getting orders, the torture. But I was often too far gone in my own mind when they flipped the switch and made me their soldier. They would say something, and my head would start hurting, and then suddenly I would do whatever they say."

Bruce stepped forward, an intent look on his face. "What did they say to you?"

Bucky shook his head. "I'm trying to remember, but I can't. I see their mouths moving, but no sound."

The doctor sighed. "I expected that answer, but it would have made things a hell of a lot easier if you could remember what they said. Based on what you're describing, it sounds like HYDRA used certain trigger words to revert you to the artificial state of mind that caused you to be obedient to them. That's the best theory I have, and if I'm right, then I hate to say that there isn't much more I can do for you. Not with my current knowledge or the current technology."

He hadn't really been expecting to hear anything else, but Bucky still flinched. Bruce's words hit him like a blow below the belt. Whatever last shred of hope he'd had faded away. Bruce looked sympathetic, but Bucky hardly noticed.

"What now then?" Bucky asked hoarsely.

"I'll have to report my findings to Fury. I will let you know that I don't think you're dangerous. Not here, at least, isolated. Among HYDRA only a few would know the trigger words to activate you, and it sounds like they need to be in the same room as you for it to work. You're currently inactive, and in no immediate threat of being activated, so being at the Facility is honestly the best place for you to be."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Kind of boring, but better than being with HYDRA," Bucky said, his shoulders relaxing.

Bruce laughed. "It does get pretty boring, sticking around here, day after day. But at least there's company. You never realize how awful it is to be alone until you are."

Bucky had never been alone. Even in HYDRA's clutches he'd never been alone. There's always been Zola with his wicked instruments, the guards with their bloody knuckles, and his handler with a gun in hand. But he could imagine isolation would drive one just as insane.

"When was the last time you left the Facility?" Bucky asked curiously. He'd seen Tony and Steve leave on missions fairly regularly, but not Bruce.

"Oh. I haven't left the Facility since the first time I came here nearly a year ago."

"What?! That's crazy!"

Bruce pushed his glasses up. "Not really. It's safer for everyone if I stay here. Fury's offered to let me go on missions and do on-site work, but I declined."

"Do you want to leave?" Bucky asked curiously. It might have been rude, and Bruce was clearly uncomfortable, but he was answering, so Bucky figured he didn't mind too much.

"Yes. But my fear of the world is much stronger than my desire to be in it."


	12. Chapter 12 (Interlude)

"Stop doing that," Pepper scolded, hitting Tony's arm lightly.

He looked at her in betrayal. "What was that for?"

"You've been staring at Bucky and Steve for the last five minutes."

"I have not!" he declared. "You insult me, woman." She just rolled her eyes, and as soon as he thought she wasn't looking his attention returned to the super-soldier and his assassin boyfriend.

"You're doing it again!" she complained. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing," he muttered. She stared at him for a minute, but he just kept looking down at his plate of pancakes, which was mostly untouched. He hadn't been eating much lately, and Pepper was starting to worry, but she knew he wouldn't listen to her even if she nagged.

A loud burst of giggles suddenly filled the room. Pepper and Tony both turned automatically towards the sound of Peter's laughter. Bucky was allowing Peter to study his mechanical arm, something the kid had been dying to do since he's first seen it. Bucky, Steve, Peter, and Bruce were all sitting on the couch while Pepper and Tony were at the island. It was a slow morning, no missions or assignments, so they were all relaxing. Bruce was playing a video game, Steve was sketching, and Peter had a half-million Legos scattered all over the floor and three-quarters of the Millenium Falcon built at his feet. Tony was the only one who wasn't in a good mood, and he wasn't trying to hide it either.

Tony's frown only deepened as he watched Bucky grin at Peter. Pepper groaned internally. That's what this was about.

She stood up and Tony watched her warily. She held out her hand and said, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he questioned, taking her hand regardless.

She didn't bother answer. She just tugged him out of the main room and down the hallway til they reached a quiet sitting room that didn't get much use. It overlooked the gardens and was clearly intended as extra seating in the event of a party or gathering, which the Avengers could never have. She'd seen Steve there occasionally, drawing the gardens in his sketchbook. She was glad of its emptiness right now though, because it provided her with the perfect spot to scold Tony at, where no enhanced people would be listening in.

"Are you really still mad that Bucky's here?" she demanded, her arms crossed.

He grimaced. "Did you really just drag me away to scold me? Why not save the energy and make accusations right in front of the others, get everything out in the open?"

"Tony," she said, deathly serious.

"I'm not mad that Barnes is here!" he yelled. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not!"

"Then what's your problem? You've been moody for weeks now, and you kept staring at Bucky during breakfast—"

"I wasn't staring at Bucky," he said slowly, meeting her eyes. "I was staring at Steve."

"Did you guys have another fight?" God, she hoped not. Those two had the hardest time getting along, which was ridiculous, because they were friends, and Steve got along with everyone. And then Peter hated when they fought, which just made everything messy.

"No, Cap and I are, for once, not fighting."

She sighed in relief. "Wait, then why were you staring at Steve?"

Tony was hard to keep up with on the best of days, and it was still too early for her brain to attempt to understand him. It didn't help that he was being cryptic. Usually she could count on him being very vocal about his problems, and she didn't appreciate him changing that up on her.

"Because I'm trying to figure out how he's so goddamn good at relationships!" Tony yelled, and she was too stunned to say anything. He started pacing. "I suck at relationships, always have. I annoy people, I'm mean, I'm arrogant, and I'm selfish. I push people away. But goddamn Cap is already hooking back up with his best friend after months of separation and torture. Peggy's already forgiven him for the break up, and they're best buddies now. And I don't understand how its so easy for him!"

She grabbed his hand and he took a shuddering breath. Her brow wrinkled as she caressed his cheek. "You aren't Steve. And I don't want you to be him either. And you're not selfish, Tony. You design all of Steve's gear yourself because as much as you bicker, you want him to be safe. You make Bruce and Peter all those little gadgets to help with their abilities because you know that they struggle sometimes. You give them all access to your own money so they can have whatever they need. You gave them this place, Tony. All of that was you. So don't put yourself down."

"You," he breathed out, a sparkle in his eyes, "are absolutely incredible."

Then he surged forward and caught her lips in a passionate, consuming kiss.

Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping into his dark hair and caressing the soft locks. He spun them around and backed up until her back hit the wall, his hands pinning her in as they rested on either side of her head. It was fiery, and messy, and perfect. Pepper moaned as his lips moved to her neck and her head tipped back.

He pulled back briefly and said, "Girlfriend?"

She could only nod in agreement, and with a wicked grin, he kissed her again.

* * *

"Cap! Cap!" Tony yelled, barging through the doors.

Steve bolted upright and was swinging his legs out of bed before his brain could catch up. Tony was panting in the doorway, no sign of injury on him. Steve peeked over his shoulder as he heard Bucky fall out of bed completely and jump right back up, somehow already clutching a knife.

"Woah, Buck, calm down!" Steve said, then looked back at Tony, whose eyes were wide as he noted that they'd been sleeping in the same bed, both wearing only underpants.

"This day is going to haunt me forever," Tony declared and Steve had to hold in a groan. "Rogers, you can bang a dude, I don't care, but you could have at least _warned_ me so we don't end up in situations like this."

"You're the one who barged in here!" Bucky pointed out, hastily grabbing pants from the floor and tugging them on. "What the hell did you want anyway?"

"Oh, that." Steve had to resist the urge to strangle the genius. "T'Challa's here and he looks _pissed."_

"Shit." Steve began grabbing the nearest clothes and tugging it on roughly. "Where is he?"

"Down in the garage, and he brought four Amazons. They also look pissed."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Bruce is in his room, Peter and Pepper are in my room, and Coulson is stalling for us in the garage. Hurry up though. I'm rather fond of not having my lab smashed to bits."

"Agreed. Let's go."

"Wait, hold up!" Bucky yelled, tugging his shirt down. "What's happening?"

"The Prince of Wakanda has come to take you into custody," Tony said bluntly. "I'd put your arm back on and stay alert. I'm not sure he'll be receptive to our charm today."

"I'm coming with," he said, making to march forward.

Steve stopped him. "No. Tony's right. Your presence will only upset T'Challa further. Coulson and I will handle it. And if we fail…" he met his best friend's eyes, "...be ready to run, and run fast."

Every fiber of Steve's being wanted to grab Bucky, pull him back into the warm bed, and stay there forever, but he couldn't. T'Challa needed to be talked down, and fast, before Wakanda declared an all-out war. And unfortunately, Steve was the closest to the Prince, and therefore had the best chances of making him see sense, or at least get him to come to an agreement. So he just kissed Bucky's forehead, grabbed Tony's arm, and steered the genius out of the room and towards the garage.

"Captain," T'Challa said, inclining his head as the two Avengers entered the room. "Stark."

Well, at least he hadn't attacked anyone yet. Steve noticed that even though there were four of the Dora Milaje with the Prince, T'Challa wasn't wearing his Black Panther suit. That meant he wasn't planning on a fight. Steve didn't lower his guard though.

"Your Highness. You should have told me you were coming. I would have set up the training room." The super-soldier stared at the guards. "But I don't think you came for a workout today."

"Steve—"

"I'm not letting you have Bucky," he said before T'Challa could finish.

"Steve," Coulson said, and the Avenger turned towards him. "Let Prince T'Challa talk."

"What?!" Tony exclaimed.

"No, Tony, let him talk." Steve looked over at the Prince. "I want to hear this."

The genius crossed his arms, looking sullen, but he didn't object again. Steve, Tony, Coulson, and T'Challa stood around on of the less messy of Tony's worktables. The Dora Milaje took up defensive positions around the room, including one by the inactive Iron Man suits. Tony kept eyeing her, perhaps mentally trying to get her away from his things. The only thing Tony was more protective of than his suits was Peter.

"I heard that you recovered your friend, Barnes," T'Challa said, in his interesting Wakandan accent. Steve wanted to learn their language, but very few people outside of Wakanda knew it. "Banner contacted Shuri and asked for her help. She tells me that Barnes was brainwashed."

Steve dipped his head. "He was."

T'Challa nodded, as if that had decided something for him. "Then I am here to offer you whatever aid you require to help your friend."

"Your Highness?" Coulson asked, gaping.

"I believe that my father and I acted too hastily in accusing Barnes. Although he was responsible, he was not acting of his own volition. He was a victim in HYDRA's schemes, just as the Wakandans he killed were."

"So, you're not mad?" Tony interpreted, raising an eyebrow.

"I am upset over the loss of Wakandan lives. But I no longer blame Barnes," the Prince clarified.

"Does King T'Chaka share your point of view?" Steve asked bluntly.

A couple of the Dora Milaje glared at the super-soldier for his tone, but T'Challa did not seem to mind. The Prince and the Captain were fairly good friends. They'd disagreed over Barnes, but had helped each other on dangerous missions. That, and they had to schedule play dates for Peter and Shuri, which led to the Prince spending a lot of time at the Facility. Steve had earned the right to be a bit rude occasionally.

"No. My father wants someone to blame for the death of his good friend, and Barnes is the perfect target. But I will not tell him that you are harboring him here."

"Thank you," Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. T'Challa smiled.

Tony rolled his eyes. "If no one is here to kill Barnes, then I want you all out of my garage."

"Fair enough. If you have time we can go for a round," Steve offered T'Challa as he and the Prince left the room, the guards trailing after them.

"I have somewhere to be. Shuri is receiving another award for her genius, and they want me to present it," T'Challa said, feigning exasperation, but everyone could tell he was proud of his little sister.

"Another? Well, you better not miss it. It's not like she already got two this month."

"Yes, that would be terrible." T'Challa smiled and held out his hand. "Goodbye, Captain."

Steve clasped it. "Goodbye, Your Highness."

* * *

"Take it slow, okay?" Tony said, checking the last of the settings on Peter's new Web-Shooters. "This is just a test run. See if we need to calibrate it or change the design."

Peter rolled his eyes, bouncing on his toes with energy. "I know, Tony, I know! Come on, I want to test them! We've been working on them for weeks."

That was true, and Tony would rather they not test them at all. When Peter had proposed that a Spider-Kid should be able to shoot spider webs, Tony had allowed his creative side to run wild. In no time at all, he and Peter had designed Web-Shooters and a synthetic web fluid to go in them. Peter was ecstatic, but as Tony realized what he'd built, he'd been growing more and more horrified. Peter was seven, it would not be safe for him to go swinging around with experimental equipment. He'd only agreed as long as Peter tested them in the training room under his and Steve's supervision.

"Right. Be careful." Tony stepped back. Why wasn't Pepper here? If Pepper was there she would not only be able to stop this without it reflecting bad on Tony, but she would also somehow distract Peter with something else that would capture his attention for hours. She always knew how to entertain Peter. Tony usually resorted to mechanics, which, while effective, was often dangerous.

Peter planted his feet and then held out his hand, pressing down on the button in his palm. A web shoot out in a white jet and latched itself onto the ceiling. Steve and Bucky watched from the other side of the room with wide eyes.

"It worked!" Peter yelled, fidgeting in place so he wouldn't disrupt the webbing.

"Okay, good." Tony circled around, examining the web with a critical eye. He didn't see anything wrong with the line. The web was holding and it looked strong and well anchored. "Try to swing on it. Keep low."

Peter detached the web from his cuffs. It hung from the ceiling, drifting with the light breezes from the air conditioning. Peter turned and climbed up the wall on all fours, reaching one of the platforms Tony had installed along the wall for him. Steve and Bucky stood at attention, both ready to spring into action in case the web snapped. Tony could only watch, tapping his foot anxiously. Peter shot out another web and leapt off the platform. The web held, and Peter swung to the other side of the room, landing on a platform above the super-soldiers.

"That was awesome!" Peter yelled, dancing around on the platform. Tony sighed in relief. "Can I do that again?"

"Go ahead!" Tony yelled back, giving him a thumbs up. He wandered over to Steve as Peter started experimenting with the Web-Shooters.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Steve whispered to Tony, hoping Peter wasn't listening in. "Peter is a bit clumsy. He crushed another spoon at breakfast just this morning."

"Hey, Spider-Kid is much more careful with tech than he is with other stuff. Plus, he's durable and has speed healing. Can you keep an eye on him, just in case?"

Steve sighed, but nodded. "I was going to work out anyways."

"Why? You're literally the perfect human being."

"Go take care of that job Coulson sent you. I know you've been stalling."

Damn. Tony hadn't thought Steve knew about that. "I'll be back soon."

Steve just shooed him away. With one last look at Peter, swinging through the air, Tony left.

* * *

"That is so cool," Bucky murmured, watching Peter swing above their heads. The kid had started adding in flips, making it look effortless.

Steve grinned over at his best friend. "You always were a science nerd at heart."

"Yeah. Never had the brains for it though."

"I've seen you talking to Bruce down in the lab. You keep up pretty well."

"With the dumbed down version, sure. We're surrounded by geniuses, though. But once Tony, or even Peter, enters the conversation, I'm out."

They laughed as an excited whoop from Peter cut through the air. He'd been going almost nonstop since Tony left, and true to their word, they'd been watching him. Peter was fine, though. Small, agile, and slightly prescient. There had been a few times where Bucky had been sure Peter would go smashing into a wall, but the kid always maneuvered just in time to avoid it. Still, it was nerve-racking to see a seven year old doing a trapeze act without any safety gear on a man-made spider web.

The doors to the training room burst open and Tony strode in, his eyes snapping to Peter. The tension drained out of his shoulders as he saw with his own eyes that Peter was fine. He made his way over to the super-soldiers.

"Told you there was nothing to worry about," Steve said, smirking at the genius.

He rolled his eyes, grease smeared across his jaw. "Whatever, Rogers. And I did finish that project, in case you were going to nag about it."

"Did you tell Coulson?"

"Yep. He's going to pick it up tonight. He told me he can't hang around though. I didn't get all the details, but I'm fairly certain Agent is dealing with an alien situation."

Steve sighed. "The world gets weirder by the day."

"No, its always been weird. We just get to see behind the curtain now." Tony stepped forward and yelled, "Spider-Kid! Get down here!"

"One last time?" Peter begged, hanging upside from a platform and giving the genius puppy dog eyes.

Tony caved, as anyone would to that adorable look. "One more."

"Yay!" Peter scampered onto the platform and raised his hand. Grinning madly, he jumped off the platform, twisting in midair so he was facing the ceiling. But when he pressed down on the button, nothing came out. " _Tony!"_ Peter screamed in panic.

Bucky and Steve sprang into action. Steve moved underneath Peter, ready to catch him, but Peter didn't know that. The kid grabbed one of the old webs hanging from the ceiling, trying to save himself from hitting the ground, but his velocity was too high and the web starting swinging. Peter tried to stop the web, but physics had taken over. He was heading right for the window. Bucky moved, faster than he even knew he could, catching Peter's body and shielding the boy right before they slammed into the window and burst through it in a shower of glass.

"Bucky!"

"Peter!"

"Uhh…" Bucky groaned, his entire back and his legs feeling like one gigantic bruise. He opened his eyes and realized he was laying on the lawn surrounded by shards of glass and the slight weight of Peter on top of him, securely gripped in his metal arm.

Peter was trembling. "Are you okay?" the kid whispered.

Bucky forced a smile. "I'm fine. Can you stand?"

Peter climbed carefully off of him and Bucky took in an unrestricted breath. The crunch of glass told Bucky that Steve and Tony had arrived. Steve frowned in sympathy as he helped Bucky sit up. The glass had destroyed his shirt, but hadn't punctured his skin. Bucky looked over at Peter and Tony. The kid had leapt onto the genius and was hugging him so tightly it almost looked painful. Tony didn't seem to notice. He just held Peter and made calming noises.

The genius caught him staring. At first Bucky was worried that he would be upset, but all Tony did was mouth _Thank you._ Bucky nodded in acknowledgment.

"Alright, kid, let's call it a day," Tony mumbled and walked away, still carrying Peter.

Bucky frowned at Steve, who was smiling down at him in a knowing way. "What?"

"I think Tony's warming up to you." Steve's lips quirked. "I also think Pepper is going to throw a fit when she finds out Tony let Peter test those Web Shooters."


	13. Chapter 13

There had been air raids in Sokovia for as long as the twins could remember. The sound of the alarm crept into their dreams. They had spent more time in the bomb shelter than they cared to remember, crammed in the cold, moldy basement with a dozen other people. Every time they emerged they expected to find their apartment a burning heap, like so many of their friends' homes. So far, they had always been able to go home. They both feared the day they wouldn't be able to.

There had been no air raids for a month, and people were either getting edgy or starting to relax. Some of the optimistic believed that peace had finally come. Most believed that the biggest air strike yet was on the way, that the enemy was just gathering their arsenal and trying to lure Sokovia into a false sense of security.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff knew little of this. They were young, and had been sheltered by their parents as best as they could manage. They wanted their children to have a peaceful childhood, even in their war torn country. The twins understood that people were nervous, but they were just glad they hadn't been stuck in the smelly basement for weeks.

The night the strike came the alarm was sounded too late.

* * *

"Wanda! Pietro! Dinner!" Mama yelled, standing in the doorway and looking out on the street where a small herd of children were playing a makeshift game of football. The ball they had had seen better decades, and the goal that was nothing more than trash cans sat on opposite ends of the streets. The teams were nebulous, switching players out constantly as some kids left and others joined.

Pietro got possession of the ball and started making a break towards the goal. He ran, the horde falling behind him. No one could admit it without hurting their twelve-year old pride, but Pietro was the fastest, and the best player. With one powerful kick, the ball flew past the goalie and between the cans.

"Yes!" Pietro shouted, throwing his hands up in the air in victory. His team cheered and surrounded him, patting him on the back. Then the ball was back in play and the game resumed. Right before Pietro could dash off, a hand grabbed the back of his coat and tugged him away. "Hey!" he complained.

Wanda didn't lessen her grip. He stumbled after her. "Mama called us. I know you heard her."

"Let me finish my game!"

"No. Your ego is big enough. I know you were trying to impress those girls who stopped to watch." Wanda always seemed to know exactly what her brother was doing and thinking. People accused them of being telepathic, which annoyed both of them. Whatever they had wasn't some fancy magic. It was natural instincts from spending every day of their lives together.

Mama smiled as her children stopped before her, Wanda smiling, Pietro pouting. She stroked her daughter's cheek. "Thank you, sweetheart. Both of you head up now. Dinner's almost done. Go set the table."

"Aww, Mama!" Pietro complained, but she silenced him with a look.

Wanda giggled at her brother's expression, then stood on her toes to kiss her mother's cheek. The twins went inside and climbed the flights of rickety stairs to reach their small apartment. The timer on the oven was set to go off in just a few minutes for the pot boiling on the stove. Their Papa was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and reading the paper. The headline read _Air Raid Imminent._ Wanda frowned, but then her father noticed her. He hurriedly folded the newspaper and smiled at his children.

"Did Mama send you?" he asked, giving them a sympathetic look.

"Yes! I was in the middle of a game, and we were winning," Pietro said, crossing his arms and looking comically annoyed.

"Mama is just taking care of you. Growing boys need their food. How did football go tonight?" Papa was a huge football fan. He never missed a game, and had been talking for years about how Pietro would grow up to be a professional football player. Wanda frequently told her brother he was too clumsy to make it to the big leagues.

"I scored almost all of the goals! You should have seen my last one! I got right past everyone and then _whoosh!_ Gooooal!" Pietro yelled, dancing around the living room before collapsing on the couch and giggling.

Papa smiled and then turned to Wanda. "And what was my little princess doing tonight?"

"Making sure Pietro didn't get himself beat up," she said primly.

Papa laughed, clutching his stomach. "That's my girl. Your brother needs someone to look out for him. He gets into trouble on his own."

"Don't worry, Papa, I won't let anything happen to Pietro." Her brother's habit of bragging and attention-seeking sometimes landed him in trouble with the other kids. Wanda had charmed his way out of a fight more than once, and after the few times she wasn't there to protect him, she'd cleaned up his wounds and scolded him.

"I know, princess. Now both of you, set the table, or else Mama will be mad at all three of us." Papa winked and the twins giggled. They raced to the kitchen and began pulling out dishes and utensils. Mama came back up and finished cooking dinner.

"Dinner time!" Mama called over her shoulder. Papa, Pietro, and Wanda all took their seats and waited eagerly as she entered the room, and began doling out paprikash to each of them. "Wanda's favorite."

"Thank you, Mama."

"It looks wonderful, darling," Papa complimented, kissing his wife and then digging into his food with the intensity of a starved man. Pietro was the same. He was getting a second helping before Wanda had even cleared half her plate.

A funny noise split through the air, interrupting their parents conversation. It sounded similar to the air raid alarms, but it wasn't the same. The twins knew the tune by heart, and this was different. The twins ran to the window and peeked outside, curious to see if the alarm was heralding something else, like aliens or something cool. They shoved against each other, each trying to peek outside, as were many people in the other apartments, tons of tiny heads looking up to the sky. Wanda, who was taller than her brother, won their little struggle and started scanning the sky, the strange alarm echoing through the night. At first, she saw nothing. Then shapes began to take form. Planes, bomber planes, right above the city. As she watched they started dropping their explosive cargo onto the city.

"Pietro!" she screamed in terror. Her brother shoved past her to peek up and said words she'd never heard before.

"Mama, Papa, bombers! We need to get to the shelter!" he yelled.

"No time, take cover!" their Papa yelled, already grabbing Mama and pulling her under the table, as if that flimsy piece of wood would protect them from the best bombs ever invented. No structure could survive an assault by a Stark bomb. Even army bases had fallen to the power of Stark's weapons of war. Their cheap apartment didn't stand a chance.

But instinct took over. Pietro grabbed Wanda and rolled her under the bed, throwing himself under and shielding as much of her body as he possibly could with his own. She was crying, clutching his arm somewhat painfully, but he didn't complain. His eyes were locked on his parents, who he could see on the other side of the room in each others arms. They looked scared. That was how he knew things were bad. They never looked scared in the basement.

The alarm continued droning throughout the city, but the planes got louder. They were flying right over their neighborhood, and the ground started shaking as explosions went off nearby. Wanda screamed and Pietro trembled in terror. Both wanted the embrace of their parents, to be together, but fear had paralyzed them and they couldn't move.

A shell crashed through the roof and the screams of the tenants filled the air. Then it blew.

The building shook and flames lashed out. A hole opened up in the middle of the kitchen and Mama and Papa went tumbling through it, screaming and still tangled in their lover's embrace.

" _Mama! Papa! No!"_ Wanda sobbed. "No, no, no."

Pietro was screaming too, but his was made of guttural, heartbreaking noises. They screamed, even though they knew it was no good. Flames were licking at the open hole in the floor only ten feet away from them and smoke was quickly filling the air, invading their lungs. Their screams petered out into coughing and their throats were raw. They clung to each other, not daring to move, not with the sounds of planes overhead and explosions nearby. The attack wasn't anywhere near done.

Another shell crashed through the roof and they covered their heads as dust and debris rained down. Broken glass tore through the skin on Pietro's arm and he jerked in pain. A shell settled on the the broken remains of the front door and sat there, pristine among the ruins of the Maximoff's apartment. The twins clutched each other tightly and closed their eyes, waiting for the bomb to go off. They were scared, but they felt a strange sort of peace. They would join their parents. They would all be together, just like they were meant to be.

A minute passed. Wanda opened her eyes and peeked at the waiting bomb. Pietro opened his eyes a minute later. It still hadn't gone off. Their breathing was shallow and neither risked so much as a whisper for fear of setting it off.

An hour passed. They could no longer hear planes overhead and even the sounds of explosions had subsides. Replaced by the ungodly wailing, of people, of sirens, of fires, that filled the city in the aftermath. The sound of a battlefield after battle. But squatting in the Maximoff apartment, mere feet from the twins, an enemy soldier waited for the moment to strike them down. They could easily read the name branded on the side of the bomb: Stark Industries.

Everyone in Sokovia knew that company. Neither twin knew English, but they knew what that logo said. Stark Industries provided all the guns and bombs and planes and grenades in the world. Their equipment was top of the line. Had been for years, even after the death of Howard Stark, their producer, and his son, Anthony Stark, the designer. After the Stark dynasty died, the company lived on under the guidance of Obadiah Stane, and loosened their morals. SI began selling to anyone with enough cash: terrorists, legitimate governments, rebels, whoever had money and was willing to spend it. Despite the fact that Anthony had died two years ago and SI hadn't come up with a new design, no other company had come up with a better design either. So Stark remained the Merchant of Death, even when he was six feet under.

The twins thought about all those times they'd read newspapers and heard TV reports about Stark Industries. Everyone hated the Starks. In that moment, staring down at the bomb that would kill them, the twins realized that they had never really hated Stark. They'd just repeated what they'd been told their whole lives.

But now...now, they truly hated the Starks.

* * *

Pietro hurried over to his twin's bed and began shaking her shoulder. She thrashed and moaned in her sleep. "Come on, Wanda, wake up," he muttered, growing worried.

Her eyes snapped open. Panic flooded her for a second, but as soon as she saw her brother's face the tension left her body. She sat up and threw her arms around his neck, shaking. He rubbed her back soothingly, waiting for her to talk.

"I was, I was in the apartment," she gasped out after a moment, her voice faint. "The shells...they kept bursting through the ceiling. And-and then, oh god, it was _you_...you went through the hole. I lo-lost you…"

"Nah," he said lightly, pulling back to look at her tear-stained face. "I'm right here, sis, remember?"

"I saw the bomb. It went off, over and over again."

"Wanda. We got out."

"We were stuck in there for _two days_ —"

"We got out," he repeated, then kissed her forehead. "And now we'll never be powerless again."

Her brow crinkled in worry. He didn't notice, suddenly swept away by the vividness of his own thoughts. She knew that look, and she knew it meant trouble. That was the grin he pulled before sneaking food from the table or cheating at a card game. This was much more serious than a game though.

"I don't trust them," Wanda whispered, looking around fearfully for anyone who might overhear. They were alone in the room they shared, but she knew someone was probably monitoring them on a camera. "We should leave, while we still can."

"You're just upset from your nightmare. These people have promised us powers, Wanda. The power that could have saved Mama and Papa. The power that can make Stark Industries pay for what they've done. I trust them." He shoved her back down gently and tucked her back into bed. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."

"I love you, Pietro," she said. She didn't know why. They didn't often say it to each other. It was more like a simple truth that neither felt needed to be stated. But there was a sense of dread in her and it wouldn't go away. She had to make sure he knew.

He smiled softly, standing up. "I love you too."

* * *

"Dr. List? Herr von Strucker? I regret to report that six of our test subjects died in the first phase of the experiment."

The two men both frowned as the nervous assistant gave his report. Baron von Strucker stood and shoved past the assistant. She stumbled back in terror, clutching her tablet, but he took no note of her. He stopped before the windows that locked into the room where the experiment had taken place. Deformed bodies were already being shoved into bags for disposal.

"Such a shame. I had such high hopes for this group," Dr. List remarked. "But two survived?"

"Yes, sir. The twins, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff."

"Ah, good. I had hoped that they would both survive. It will be interesting to see if their unique bond will have an effect on their powers. Though now I need more data."

"All in good time, my good doctor," von Strucker said, turning around. "You." The assistant jumped. "Was the experiment a success? Did the twins receive any powers from the staff?"

List cut in. "The power would come from the jewel. The staff is nothing more than ornamentation, a way to show off the stone."

Von Strucker looked over at the doctor in annoyance. He didn't seem to appreciate getting interrupted, especially by the man who had wasted billions of HYDRA's precious money to fund his experiments, which had never paid off.

"Um, sir?" the assistant said timidly, shrinking even further when both men started staring at her. "It worked. The twins received powers."

"Incredible," List breathed out.

"You've done it, Dr. List. Where are the twins now?"

"We've put them in the containment cells. Neither of them have a grasp on their powers yet, and, well, they're dangerous. Four guards and two scientists were already wounded by the twins trying to get them in the cells."

"Bring me to them," von Strucker commanded.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Pietro was burning. Not physically. Temperature had ceased to matter, everything felt the same. Burning heat and icy cold all just felt lukewarm. His mind was burning, tearing through memories and thoughts and commands a million times faster than he was used to. What felt like hours lost in thought was often seconds. It was slowly driving him mad to only have his own mind to talk to. He didn't know how long he'd been in the room, probably no more than hours, but he hated it, he hated it so much.

The room was plain, nothing in it except a spartan bed, nothing to occupy himself with, nothing to distract him from the constant speeding of his brain. The wall was plain, the other wall a glass door through which people came and went, watching him silently. Or maybe they were talking. He couldn't hear them.

His mind wasn't the only thing running out of his control. His body was disobeying him. Every move he made was too fast, _too fast._ He would stand up and take a step and then slam into the wall. When he tried to step away from the wall he was sent crashing into the other side of the room, in an endless cycle of slamming and jerking and crashing. Bruises formed all over his body and disappeared just as quickly as his thoughts. Every part of his body was spiraling out of his control.

They'd promised him power, and now he had it. If he had to endure this pain for it, then he would take it. So long as he could get his revenge.

He just needed to figure out how to control it.

* * *

Wanda stared around her in wonder. Everything was so bright, so clear, so beautiful. Like a sheet had been removed from the world to show her the treasure underneath. She could see thoughts and emotions drifting through the air, dancing and fighting and loving and killing. She saw how everything connected, how the blanket was made of small fibers that could tear apart, and the walls were made of stone that could crumble, crumble into atoms.

Everything around her was at constant war and peace and she could finally see it all. And even better, she could control it.

She reached out with her own thoughts and feelings towards the other ones drifting through the air. She could convince those other thoughts to become whatever she wanted. She could make the happy, she could make them angry, she could put them to sleep, she could keep them awake, she could learn their greatest hope or make them live their deepest fear. All of it, laid out at her feet, hers for the taking. Sometimes it was too much, all the swirling feeling and thoughts all around her, but she taught herself how to push them away, block them out.

Once she could do that, she focused on the other side of her powers. The physical. She could move things, control them, with her mind, focusing her power through wisps of red magic. She lifted things, she tore through metal with concentrated energy, she learned to propel herself into the air with concentrated blasts. It was incredible.

These powers were hers, and she could use them however she wished. Her and Pietro could finally take control of their lives. They wouldn't be helpless anymore. No more cowering, no more hiding. They were strong.

She reached out with her mind for her brother. She knew he was close, could feel his mind nearby from the second they received their powers. She'd instinctively known it was him, but she'd avoided his mind while she mastered her powers. His mind felt different from the others. She couldn't read his mind, or rather, she couldn't read his mind fast enough. His thoughts were moving at an incredible pace, like a hummingbird zooming from flower to flower. But when she touched his mind it slowed, calmed down. Unlike the other minds she'd entered, his was welcoming, pulling her in further, as if in recognition.

Wanda skimmed through the thoughts his mind seemed to present to her. Super speed. That was what he got. It appeared his mind had been affected just as much as his body. He had had much less success mastering his powers than she had. But she was able to mentally help him, and soon enough he could control his body and mind without her help.

She always hovered in his mind though, never fully left. She could tell he was lonely. Neither of them were allowed human contact, had not been for days, maybe weeks, and unlike her, Pietro couldn't barge into minds for contact. She was the only one he could talk to. She couldn't always keep up with his thoughts, and it was still hard for them to talk to each other like this, but she could tell her mere presence made things better, and it required little concentration on her part.

That was good. Because she had set herself another task in addition to taking care of Pietro. She was in Strucker's mind whenever he was in the compound, digging through it and learning everything she could. Everything the man was planning to do with her and her brother, she knew about.

She would not allow anyone to have power over them again.

* * *

"Mission time, kiddos," Coulson said, entering the living room with Peggy trailing behind him.

"Phil!" Peter exclaimed in delight. "Do I get to go?"

"Not on this one, darling," Peggy said, striding over to Peter and hugging him. "You'd be terribly bored. We have to save your talents for something amazing."

He frowned. "You're just saying that."

Coulson dropped a tablet on the kitchen island. For once, everybody was gathered for breakfast. Steve and Bucky were making pancakes at the stove, one making mix and the other at the griddle. Bruce was pouring himself a cup of tea while Sam, Pepper, and Tony drank coffee. Peggy took the seat next to Peter, who had some sort of puzzle cube with a tech interface. No doubt one of the many inventions Tony made to keep Peter preoccupied and happy.

"What's going on, Phil?" Steve asked, turning off the griddle and coming over, Bucky right behind him.

"We got another sighting of the enhanced children in Sokovia." Coulson tapped the tablet and it projected an image, zoomed in on two children. A girl with red hair and a boy with white hair, running through a crowded street hand in hand.

"So? They pop back on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar every few months for the last year and a half. You've never cared that much before," Tony said, crossing his arms. Pepper gave him an exasperated look.

"But this time, we were able to track their movements all the way back to here." The image changed, showing an old European style fortress on a hill. "A HYDRA research base. We've known about it for a while, except we thought it was inactive. But there was also a sighting of Dr. List in the area, who is known for human experimentation. We believe the base is up and running, and that List is responsible for the appearance of two enhanced children."

"I've studied List's work in the past," Bruce said, biting his lip. "His test subjects usually die in his experiments. He's rarely had success. I find it hard to believe that he actually created two enhanced beings on his own."

"You think someone is helping him?" Tony asked, locking eyes with Bruce. The two boys seemed to have entered their own world.

"Maybe. I can't think of who would know how to make enhanced people. So far, most enhanced people were made by accident, or they're Inhuman. But maybe List found something, maybe an Inhuman or alien relic, that allowed him to give these kids powers."

Coulson looked at Bruce. "Is that possible? To use an alien artifact to make superpowers?"

"Honestly? I don't know. There's so little research on the subject. I think it might be possible. I'd have to examine the artifact used, if there even is one," Bruce explained, adjusting his glasses and moving the map of the fortress around, zooming in on holes in the defenses. "I do think it's worth S.H.I.E.L.D. investigating."

"I agree," Peggy said, looking over at Steve. "I think you should go. You've had the most experience dealing with enhanced humans, and people who have been brainwashed by HYDRA. You're also likely one of the few people who can subdue them."

The super-soldier looked contemplative, leaning against Bucky slightly. Steve did serve as the kind of leader when Coulson wasn't there. He cooked meals, made sure everyone was eating and healthy, supervised training, arranged for private tutors, all of it. On top of that, he still managed to go on missions and serve S.H.I.E.L.D. He was most definitely the best bet for taking care of the enhanced children, physically and emotionally. Bruce theorized the super-soldier theorem had actually aged Steve's mind. Mentally, he was an adult.

"I'll go," Steve said, nodding at Coulson.

"I was hoping you'd say that," the agent replied. "There will be two objectives. I'll give you a team. We need to get the enhanced children into our custody, and we need to find out what List has been doing. Whether he had an alien artifact or mad science helping him create superpowers."

"Then you'll want me to go, too," Tony declared, slinging an arm around Pepper. The two of them had not been subtle about the fact that they'd started dating. He looked over at Bruce with a sly grin. "Unless the actual expert wants to go?"

Bruce went pale. Coulson frowned at the genius. "Tony, you know Mr. Banner is not permitted to go on any active missions."

Tony just shrugged. Everyone exchanged glances, but no one seemed to know what to make of his pointed suggestion. Bruce wasn't very helpful. He stared down at the table, avoiding everyone's gaze. Finally, Steve broke the silence.

"I'm going to call up Sam. We'll need some back-up for this."

"I could be back-up," Peter suggested hopefully.

"No," Steve, Bucky, Pepper, Bruce, Peggy, Coulson, and Tony all said in unison.

* * *

"The base is under attack!"

"Shields up, shields up now!"

"A large party is approaching the southern wall, and a smaller group is coming in through the woods!"

"I'm picking up multiple targets in the air!"

"Then shoot them down!" von Strucker yelled. "Send troops to meet them! I want them taken out quickly! No survivors!"

Wanda and Pietro watched the chaos around them impassively. They stood in the corner, observing the many HYDRA soldiers watching security feeds and dispatching troops as they tried to contain the threat. No one had ever attacked the base before under von Strucker's rule, and the man didn't seem eager to lose the battle. The twins didn't care what happened to the lab. All they wanted was to get in on the action.

Wanda sensed her brother about to grab her and run. She reached behind her to touch his cheek.

 _Wait,_ she said, reaching into his mind and soothing his emotions. _Watch. Where are we needed most? Simple soldiers are beneath us._

There was a benefit to her brother's lightning fast mind: his emotions changed just as quickly as he could move. One second he was ready to take on an army, the next he was bored with the slow pace of reality. And that was the downside: everything was much too slow to satisfy him.

"Herr von Strucker," List said, approaching the leader. "I believe there is an enhanced soldier among the small group trying to sneak in from the west. I suggest sending out the twins to deal with him. I'm confident their abilities would be more than enough to bring him down."

"Sir," one of the soldiers interrupted before von Strucker could answer. "I believe that the troops are composed of specialized S.H.I.E.L.D. task forces."

"You're certain?" von Strucker demanded.

"Yes, sir." The soldier zoomed in on one of the uniforms of the advancing troop. A stylized eagle. S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Send even more men out! I want the cannons manned and trained on the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents!" He turned to List. "I'm sorry, doctor, but the twins are not going anywhere. We cannot risk losing them in a pointless fight, or S.H.I.E.L.D. discovering their existence."

"They already know! Why else would they be here?!" List retorted, stepping towards him in rage.

Von Strucker was unmoved. "The shield will hold. Then we will have to abandon this facility before S.H.I.E.L.D. returns with an even bigger arsenal."

 _Let's go,_ Wanda said. Pietro scooped her into his arms and then ran. She clung to him, by now incredibly familiar with the strange sensation of everything around them looking like it was moving in slow motion. Everyone must seem like a turtle to Pietro, Wanda thought. Unbearably slow. No wonder he was so impatient all the time.

"Where to?" he asked. She feed the location directly into his mind. They were already outside. Pietro tore through the barrier like it wasn't there. He was too fast for it to detect, nothing more than a glitch in the system.

"Stop," she said suddenly and he slowed. Everything became visible again. He set her down in the small clearing of trees. She hid behind one and peeked out, Pietro looking curiously over her shoulder. Damn growth spurt. She missed being taller than him. "That's them."

A group of six agents were walking cautiously through the woods. They must believe they hadn't been spotted yet. How foolish. Overhead, up by the fortress, something had just rammed into the shield, sending a flash of light over the area, followed by the sound of explosions. The cannons were finally up, shooting at the boogeys in the sky.

"Cap, I'm taking fire up here," a voice said, emanating from the group, but not from anyone Wanda could sense. She frowned, then noticed that the agent in the front had a comm on his wrist. "They've got a shield around the place."

"Can you get it down?" the front man asked, trying to whisper. Wanda smirked. He could whisper all he wanted, they were already caught.

"Yeah, but your wing man is going to have to act as bait."

"Sorry, Sam," the agent said, grinning.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm on it," a new voice said, also through the comm. "Be quick about getting the shield down. I'll try and take out the cannons."

"So?" Pietro asked impatiently. "Which one is the enhanced? We should take him out first."

Wanda tilted her head, examining the group. She reached out with her mind. Five of the men were typical. Average agents, completely focused on their mission. Their concentration made it hard for her to delve deeper in their minds. But the sixth man, the one leading them with a red, white, and blue shield on his arm, was entirely unfocused. His thoughts were drifting, and she tried to gather them together, but she was too far away. She'd found her powers work much better in close contact, especially skin-to-skin. And she wanted to unravel his mind, figure out why the leader would be distracted on such a big op.

"The man in front is the enhanced." His mind felt different from the others. Pietro made to move forward, but she put a hand on his chest. "Wait. We don't know what powers he has. Take out the others. I'll take the enhanced myself."

Her brother frowned, searching her face. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. Get me an opening and I'll bring him down."

* * *

"Keep moving," Steve said to his team as they crept through the woods. "We have to be at the lower entrance when Tony brings the shield down."

"Captain, I think there's someone he—"

Steve whirled around. The man who'd been speaking was sprawled on the ground. Another agent knelt down and checked his pulse. Everyone else raised their guns and circled around the agent's body. Steve scanned the area. Tony had installed a heat sensor in his helmet, but it wasn't picking up anything, other than his own agents.

"He's alive, just unconscious," the agent said, standing and raising her own gun. "Captain, what do we do? Should we proceed with the mission?"

"Quiet," he whispered. He heard something, faint, getting closer. "What the…" A flash of heat appeared on his sensor, the agent next to him went flying, and then stillness.

"Tony, I think I found one of the enhanced," he said into his comm. There was no reply, from Sam or Tony. "Dammit. Guns up. We need to take down the target."

"Sir, we can't even see the attacker!" an agent protested.

Steve wanted to scream. He couldn't see the threat either, just a blur of heat and then nothing. But he had to stay in control. These men were counting on him. The Avengers had begun the build a name for themselves among the specialized S.H.I.E.L.D. units that they worked with on special ops. They were relying on him, and Steve didn't know what to do.

"Grab the men and get yourselves back to the ship!" Steve commanded, hefting his shield and pulling out a gun from his holster.

"But, sir—"

"Go! That's an order, Agent!"

They didn't look pleased, but they grabbed the two unconscious men and began to move. Steve monitored their progress while also watching his heat sensor. He didn't know where the enhanced had gone, but the kid was lightning fast and could strike at any time.

"Come on out!" Steve yelled, spinning slowly in the center of the clearing.

Flash of heat and then a dark blur rammed into him. He went flying, but he managed to contort his body so that he landed on one knee instead of his back. That had hurt. The high speed the enhanced was moving at put an impressive amount of force behind his punch. Steve thought his ribs might be bruised, possibly cracked, judging by the sharp pain in his side.

A twig snapped behind him and he whirled around. A girl a couple years younger than him stood behind him, surveying him with glowing red eyes. She reached out and touched his temples.

He collapsed.

* * *

Another explosion rocked the fortress. Sam must have taken out whatever jammer was being used to interfere with the comms. Tony was already plotting ways to add counter-measures for jammers so they would never have radio silence again. It had already been five minutes with no communication. For all he knew, that explosion had been Sam getting shot out of the sky.

"Tony? Steve? I took out the jammer," Wilson said over the comms. Tony sighed in relief. Good. Sam wasn't dead.

"Sam, I'm in," Tony said, flying through the narrow corridors of the fortress as bullets bounced off his armor. "But I could use some help in here!"

He stopped inside a wide chamber and dropped to the floor. He was surrounded by about twenty men. Sighing, a panel on his shoulder opened and revealed a small gun that rapidly shot out a couple rounds of bullets. Screams filled the air, then silence. Before the gun had even retreated back into the armor, Tony was the only one left standing. He started poking around the room as his comm crackled to life.

"I'm busy taking out the last of the cannons!" Sam yelled over the comms. "The first group should reach you soon!"

"Hey, Cap, where are you and your slackers?" Tony said over the comm. J.A.R.V.I.S. was displaying the location of all the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel on his screen, and Cap's group wasn't even on the display anymore. "Cap, where are you?"

Silence. Tony started growing alarmed. Sam said, "Steve? Report in. Steve!"

"J.A.R.V.I.S., find Rogers," Tony commanded, stepping out of his suit. He still had his part of the mission to uphold. They needed to know how List had made enhanced humans, and then take whatever technology he had used.

"Sir, I detect Captain Roger's tracker is in the woods to the west. I do not detect anyone else from his team in the area," his A.I. reported in his smooth, artificial voice. It didn't calm Tony down like it usually did though.

"Can you tell if he's alive?"

"Captain Rogers is alive. His vitals indicate that he is sleeping."

Tony's brows knitted together. "Sleeping? Are you sure he isn't unconscious? Any knots of that thick head of his?"

"No, sir. There is no sign of blunt trauma injury."

"The enhanced," the genius said, eyes sparking with realization. He switched to comms. "Sam, I think one of the enhanced took out Cap. J.A.R.V.I.S. says he's sleeping."

"I'll go get him," Sam declared, followed by the sound of gunfire.

"No, we need to finish the mission. I'll send a message to back-up and have them scoop up Rogers. Help the other team in. I think most of the HYDRA guys are fleeing, but we need to capture List. Keep an eye out for the enhanced, they were able to take out Cap, which means they're dangerous."

A moment of hesitation, then, "I will." Sam didn't sound pleased, but Tony knew he would do as he was told. Sam was a good soldier, which was why he and Steve got along so well. Goody two-shoes, the both of them. Tony knew better than to blindly follow orders anymore, but it was sure nice when other people listened to him.

Tony succeeded in hacking into the terminal. He had J.A.R.V.I.S. download all of the information as he scrolled through it, looking for List's files, or information about List's experiments. The sound of footsteps and gunfire was getting closer. Tony started sweating a little. Time was running out, and he wouldn't be able to use the suit while J.A.R.V.I.S. was still working on the files.

"Bingo!" he said as he found List's experiment log. Conveniently at the top of the research was a picture of a strange sort of golden staff set with a blue jewel. The artifact List had used to create superpowers in a group of young Sokovian children. Correction, in two children. The rest were listed as deceased. Tony didn't allow himself to think about it. The second J.A.R.V.I.S. said he was done he stepped back in the suit, the familiar metal closing around him as his screen lit up.

Sam swooped into the room, followed by a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the ground. Tony slumped in relief, as much as he could in the suit. Sam looked puzzled to see him there. He dropped to the ground, wings folding behind him.

"I thought you were supposed to be tracking down List," the soldier said.

"I am. I thought you were supposed to be taking out all the HYDRA agent," Tony retorted.

"We're doing the final sweep through for any agents that hid. Everyone else either fled or is already tied up or dead."

Tony was impressed. That had been pretty quick for a full take over of a HYDRA base. Those bastards had definitely been caught off guard by the attack.

"Wait, what about the enhanced?"

Sam shrugged. "Haven't seen them. We'll keep looking, but they might've fled already."

Tony and Sam both whirled around as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent screamed and went flying in the air. Sam expanded his wings as two more agents went soaring, hit by something almost two fast to see. It had to be one of the enhanced. Tony panicked. How could he fight something he couldn't see?

"Open fire!" Sam yelled. Bullets rang out, but nothing could hit the enhanced. He was too fast, a blur of colors. Agent after agent fell. At the speeds he was going, his punches must have felt like being hit by a train at full speed.

Tony hovered in the air, out of the reach of the enhanced. Sam took off, too, firing both his guns helplessly at the blur. There was no way he could hit him, not unless Sam had acquired super-eyesight without Tony's knowledge. Tony wasn't worried about the fast dude though. J.A.R.V.I.S. had said Steve had no sign of injury. Which meant it was the other enhanced who had knocked Steve out. Where was she?

Two more agents were knocked to the ground. Sam was running out of bullets. Tony looked around frantically, his scanners searching for a heat signature. The enhanced kid was nothing more than a blur of heat. Where was the other? She had to be close, they'd never been spotted apart.

There, he spotted a girl just around the corner, probably waiting to finish off whoever the boy couldn't handle. It had to be her. Tony fired up his repulsors and flew around the corner, ignoring Sam's scream. A girl with red hair was standing with her eyes closed. He raised his hand, ready to blast her with a non-lethal pulse, but her eyes flew open. They were startling red, unnatural. She made a strange motion with her hands and he went crashing into a wall.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, standing back in. Part of the metal had been crushed and was digging in uncomfortably to his stomach, but the suit was still functional. The girl hadn't moved a step, but a weird red mist was drifting from her fingertips. The mist was filling the corridor, surrounding Tony. He didn't know what the mist was, but his mask was filtering it out and it wasn't impeding his vision.

A look of confusion crossed the girl's face as Tony lifted his hand and blasted her with a sonic-pulse. She clutched her head and then collapsed, her flame-colored hair splaying on the ground like a demonic halo.

"Wanda!" someone screamed. Faster than Tony's eyes could see, a boy appeared at the girl's side and clutched her body tightly, checking her pulse. He was murmuring something in a language Tony didn't know. The boy seemed distraught.

Sam landed next to Tony, wings folding. "What's going on?"

"Not entirely sure," Tony whispered back, then stepped forward cautiously, trying not to startle the boy. He looked about twelve or thirteen, but he had white hair. "Do you speak English? She'll be okay. I knocked her out, so it might be awhile before she wakes up."

The boy stared up at him uncomprehendingly. Fantastic. They couldn't even communicate. He knew some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on this mission had been chosen specifically because they spoke Sokovian, but ironically the kid had knocked them all out. Now the kid had no way of knowing what was going on.

"I don't have time for this," Tony sighed, raising his hand and knocking the boy out with the same quick sonic blast as the girl. He fell right next to her, still clutching her hand.

"Stark, what the hell was that?!" Sam yelled, running over and kneeling next to the kids.

"Calm down, Wilson. It won't hurt them. Worst comes to worst, they'll have a headache when they wake up. But that's our mission. Call in the ships. We're going to need a little more than handcuffs to contain these two."

* * *

"We're sure this will be safe?" Steve asked.

Coulson sighed. "No. We're never sure. But you know what my answer is."

"Better with us than in a containment cell. I know. I agree. But I also have to think about Bruce, and Tony, and Peter."

"I understand, and I'm glad that you're there to keep an eye on things when I can't. You all came here with some baggage. Not the easiest crowd to manage."

They were sitting in the kitchen at nearly three in the morning, about the only time of day most of the Avengers would be asleep, even Tony. Too late for anyone to have stayed up working or watching movies, too early for someone to have woken up from a nightmare. A rare peaceful moment, and one the two men were taking advantage of to discuss the Avengers without them eavesdropping.

"No, we're not," Steve agreed. "But we're making it work. More additions will change things, but everyone will get used to it. Bruce will be nervous, Bucky will be suspicious, Tony will be difficult, Peter will be excited. It's just how things go."

"Okay. I'll send you their files. They've been very cooperative overall, but we don't know how they'll react to being confined here. As long as they're together, I think they'll behave. They're terrified of being separated. There are a few other details, but I'm sure you'll be able to handle them."

"I'll certainly do my best. Peggy said she'll hang around for a while, help settle Wanda. Otherwise the poor girl will be stuck with a ton a guys and occasionally Pepper," Steve said, smiling. "How's the twins English lessons going?"

"Incredibly well. It's only been about a month, but they're picking it up fast. Apparently their parents spoke English, so they knew some basics. They still have a ways to go til they're fluent."

"Alright. Then I say we welcome the new Avengers whenever Fury sees fit."

"I'll call him right now."


	14. Chapter 14 (Interlude)

"So where are the new kids?" Colonel James Rhodes asked, walking through the Facility with Tony.

"Wanda and Pietro? Lessons, I think. They were behind in their schooling. S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to get them caught up," Tony replied.

The sun was shining through the windows, and the two of them could see Sam, Bucky, and Steve outside, playing Frisbee. To even the odds a little, Sam had been permitted to use his wings. He kept swooping in and stealing the Frisbee from Bucky. Tony was glad he'd soundproofed the building, because he had a feeling Peter should not be hearing whatever the Winter Soldier was yelling.

"Poor kids. Where are they staying?" Rhodey asked.

"Next to Bruce. They wanted to share a room. Don't know why I bothered put in so many bedrooms since everyone seems to be sharing," the genius grumbled, throwing himself down on an armchair in the living room. Video game controllers were everywhere. Pietro had just discovered video games and was now addicted.

"Who else is sharing?"

"Steve and Bucky for one," Tony said with a sly grin.

Rhodey looked surprised. "Wait, are they…?"

"Dating? Oh, yeah. They keep it pretty PG around people, but I have the unfortunate luck of being right across the hall from them. They don't always remember to close the door."

"Spare me the details. I just figured Steve was straight, since he was with Peggy. Anyways, then you and Peter share, for whatever reason."

Tony shrugged. "I don't have an explanation for that."

Rhodes leaned back in his chair with a sly grin that could rival Tony's. "When I met you, that scrawny thirteen year old straight out of Afghanistan, I never would have believed you would have essentially adopted a super-powered little kid. Can't blame you though. Peter's adorable. Cutest little kid ever. And smart."

"Yeah, he is. Remind me to show you the Web-shooters he designed later. The military would be begging for them if they could see them." Tony raised an eyebrow. "In case you were curious, Pepper's pretty much moved into my room."

Rhodes looked unsure for a second, as if waiting for Tony to say it was a joke. But the genius just waited with an amused expression, and a startled laugh burst out of the colonel. He knew he hadn't been checking up on his younger friend enough since he started attending the military academy, but he hadn't realized just how much he'd been missing. Rhodey had been fairly certain the two of them would start dating eventually, but that was a bigger step than he'd anticipated.

"Wow. Good for you, buddy. Wait, with Peter in the room?"

"Nothing gross. We mostly just share a bed. Sometimes Peter sleeps in the same bed as us. I don't know. It's weird, but it works."

"Hey, I won't judge. You've all been through a lot. If you're happy, I'm cool."

"Thanks, Rhodey," Tony said in perhaps the most sincere tone Rhodey had ever heard out of him. Then he was back to his usual flippant manner. "Let's head down to the lab. I made something you might be interested in."

Rhodey's curiosity was piqued. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Tony got up and started walking. "Well, you always seemed pretty jealous of my Iron Man suit, and now you'll be doing some fairly dangerous missions of your own, so I whipped something up."

The colonel trailed after him. They descended down to the basement and into Tony's garage. A quick hand scan and they were in. His garage was as incredible as ever, the priceless cars lined by the large door almost boring in comparison to everything else. Holographic screens, complicated mechanics, the odd alien relic he was researching for S.H.I.E.L.D., and bits of in-progress and being repaired Iron Man suits. It was a mechanic's heaven.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., pull out the prototype," Tony said, seemingly to thin air.

"Yes, sir," came a disembodied male voice. Rhodes jumped and looked around, but there was no one to see.

"Sorry, Rhodey, I haven't introduced you to my person A.I., J.A.R.V.I.S. He helps run things down here when I can't. You know, makes sure nothing explodes and kills us all."

"Hello, Colonel Rhodes. It is a pleasure to meet you," the A.I. said.

"Uh, hi," Rhodey said, looking skeptical.

Tony had already moved on. A panel in the back of the room had open. Iron Man suits slid aside to reveal a whole other row of suits. While they were definitely Iron Man suits, these looked different. Each had a slightly different variation or technology that set them apart, and they were done in different colors than Tony's usual ostentatious red and gold. Tony moved towards a more standard looking, if bulkier, gray and black suit.

"Finished her the other day," he said proudly as Rhodes drifted closer. "Larger than the usual design, but I figure you won't be doing as much close quarters fighting. More offensive weapons too. More suit means more places to store extra rounds in case you need them. There are a few other tricks too that I think you'll like, and a great battery life. Much more energy efficient when the suit has its own arc reactor instead of doubling up. I'm going to start installing individual arc reactors in my suits, too, it's only practical—"

"Tony," he interrupted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oops, sorry, I thought it was obvious." He gestured towards the suit. "It's all yours."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Happy birthday."

"My birthday is in six months."

Tony shrugged. "Happy early birthday then. I'm not going to remember your actual birthday, so you should take your present now."

Rhodey shook his head and stepped back. "I can't."

"You can, and you will. I spent a lot of effort on this, and I don't just hand these out to anyone. Even Peter. So you'd better start showing some appreciation."

Rhodey laughed and said, "Fine. Thank you."

"I was thinking it might be nice if you beg. Or grovel. No one's groveled for me before. That'd be new."

Both boys looked over at the door as they heard it open. Pepper peeked her head and smiled. Rhodey grinned as he saw every muscle in Tony's body ease at the sight of her, safe and unharmed. And a smile stretched across the genius's face as she stepped into the room with Peter on her hip. The two people he loved most, in his most defensible place, safe and happy. Everything he wanted, even if he knew it was impossible.

"Rhodey! It's good to see you again," she said with a smile. "Peter, you remember Rhodey, right?"

"Yeah, he helped make my robot!" the boy said enthusiastically.

Rhodey remembered that. He'd dropped by for an afternoon and somehow wound up helping the kid design and create a robot. It was a good thing always been good at robotics, even if he was no genius. Even then, Peter had been just about as smart as Rhodey.

"It's nice to see you both. It's been a while, sorry," he apologized.

She waved her free hand. "Nonsense. Tony's been telling me you're at the military academy. I'm sure they're keeping you plenty busy." She looked over at Tony. "Just wanted to let you know that us and the twins are going swimming."

That was obvious at a glance. Peter was in spider patterned swim trunks and Pepper was in a blue bikini and flip flops. Peter was also carrying two towels to finish the look off.

"Sure. Have fun," Tony said.

"Tony, you should come with us!" Peter said excitedly.

Tony smiled, but there was something strained about it. "Maybe next time, kid."

"Tony's busy, sweetie," Pepper added, stroking his hair. "We'll go have fun, though. Bye, Rhodey. It was nice seeing you."

"Bye, Pepper, bye, Pete." They left and the door closed. He turned to his best friend. "You bought those trunks, didn't you?"

Tony's smirk was answer enough.

* * *

Peter stuck his tongue out in concentration. Two of his Lego pieces had gotten stuck together and he was having trouble pulling them apart. And if he pulled too hard he might crush them. Finally, he sighed and tossed the piece down. Wanda looked over at him and smiled. Right. She could sense his frustration or something like that. He'd thought his own powers were weird until he'd heard Wanda's voice in his head for the first time.

Peter did like Wanda though. She was nice, and a good cook. She didn't talk much because her English was still limited, and had a heavy accent. Peter liked her accent. He'd never heard anything like it. Her brother had the same accent, but he talked more. Something about his brain working fast so it was easier for him to learn English. Peter also liked Pietro. The fast boy was funny and would play games with Peter. But Pietro liked video games, and those hurt Peter's senses. So bright and loud and the game would set his spider-sense off, which made it uncomfortable.

"What do you want to watch?" Tony asked, holding up the remote. Peter was sitting on the floor by his feet, and Pepper was curled up next to her boyfriend, her head on his shoulder.

"I don't care. Find a movie or something," she suggested.

Peter started watching the TV too, deciding he'd go back to his new Lego set some other time. Wanda was curled up in an armchair, reading a book. Pietro was sitting in the window playing a handheld game. Peter had noticed that they were rarely more than a room away from each other. He couldn't tell if that was because they were twins, because they were powered, or because they were traumatized. From what he read in their file, they probably never wanted to be separated again.

"Wait, go back," Pepper said, sitting up. Peter looked up in interest. Both Tony and Pepper were leaning forward, staring at the screen with indecipherable expressions.

It was a news channel. It was showing footage of a missile launching, with the caption _US Launches The Latest Strike In the Middle East._ Written in bold letters on the side of the missile were two words: Stark Industries. Peter frowned and looked up at Tony. The genius looked impassive, except that he was gripping Pepper's hand tightly. She looked worried, stroking his hand with her thumb.

"Another one of your inventions, Stark?" Pietro said, trembling with anger. Peter's spider-sense started humming and he tensed up automatically.

"Yes," Tony admitted, meeting Pietro's eyes defiantly. "I made it when I was eleven. My father and now Stane are the ones who are selling them. I don't have any control over Stark Industries. I never have."

"Pietro," Wanda murmured, reaching out for her brother, but he sidestepped.

"How many people are going to die because of you?" Pietro snarled.

Tony stood up. "I was a kid when I made that. I didn't know any better. If I could stop this, I would."

"Right. Because you're doing your best right now. Letting the world believe you're dead and passing on responsibility of your weapons to the same men who had you design them in the first place. Don't lie to yourself. You're hiding."

"Pietro, stop it!" Wanda said sharply, but her brother didn't even seem to hear her. Peter's spider-sense started ringing, warning more danger by the second.

Tony was unflinching as he said, "I'm not the one who killed your parents."

That was the last straw. Pietro ran forward, fist raised, blurring as he hit super-speed. Peter's spider-sense spiked and without thinking he jumped up and put himself between Pietro and Tony. He saw Pietro try to stop himself, but his momentum won and his fist connected solidly with Peter's jaw. The eight year old went flying over the couch and sprawled on the floor, jaw throbbing and breath knocked out of him.

"Peter!" Tony yelled, jumping over the couch and kneeling next to Peter. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Peter coughed. "Hurt me less...than it'd hurt you."

Tony's jaw clenched. He looked over at Pietro, who looked horrified at what he'd done. Wanda was holding his arms, but he wasn't struggling.

"I checked the dates," Tony said quietly, staring at the twins. "I was being tortured in a cave in Afghanistan when the bomb dropped on your apartment. Just because you've suffered doesn't mean other people haven't. Now get out of here. Now."

The twins left hurriedly, Pietro casting an apologetic look at Peter. The kid wanted to smile back, but he was still catching his breath. He knew Pietro hadn't meant to hit him.

"Tony...I'm fine," Peter said weakly. The genius was still trembling with anger, but his attention was turned to Peter for the time being.

"Liar. You're spending too much time with Steve. Both of you are reckless idiots." He helped Peter sit up and examined his jaw. "Not broken, which is lucky for Pietro. You'll have a nice bruise though."

"I heal fast."

Tony smiled. "Yeah, you do. But Peter?" His expression turned serious. "Don't ever do that again."

He frowned. "Why? He was going to hurt you!"

"Because I deserve it, and you don't," Tony said blatantly.

"No one deserves to be hurt," Peter argued, but he could tell his words had had no effect.

Pepper came over. She frowned as she saw Peter's rapidly bruising jaw. "Oh, baby. Should we have Bruce look at that?"

"No, it'll heal soon," Peter assured her. "Doesn't even hurt that much."

Pepper picked him up and didn't comment when Peter's grip was a little tighter than usual. She could tell he was shaken, even if he was trying to be tough. He always pretended his injuries were not as bad as they looked because of how overprotective Tony could get. Tony had done the same thing when he was little so Pepper could easily see through both of them. She smiled and said, "Well, how about some ice cream then, for my brave little boy?"

"Okay," Peter agreed happily. She smiled and carried him to the kitchen. Tony lingered in the living room. The TV was still on, showing the launch of the missile.

" _...developed by mega corporation Stark Industries, this missile is estimated to cost two billion dollars. It is set to target a terrorist base in the Middle East, and if it hits it's mark, analysts suggest that the base will be entirely demolished, and the surrounding area will become uninhabitable. Loss of lives for this strike estimates numbers in the dozens, perhaps hundreds—"_

The screen went black. Tony set down the remote.


	15. Chapter 15

"And now...introducing...the most amazing archer in the world... _Hawkeye!"_

The crowd cheered as the announcer's voice faded out theatrically. All eyes were on the stage that was set with four different targets of increasingly smaller sizes. For a moment, the only sound was of the dramatic music playing from unseen speakers. People shifted in their seats, trying to spot the next performer, fanning themselves with their programs as they sat within the hot tent.

A roar came from the crowd as an arrow shot down an aisle and embedded itself deeply in the largest target. A spotlight came on, revealing a boy in a purple costume standing on a platform over the audience, a bow in his hand and a quiver on his back. He jumped off the platform and started soaring through the air on a zip line. As he rocketed towards the stage he drew two arrows and fired. They hit the next two targets in the dead center.

He dropped from the zip line and rolled to his feet on the stage. He held out his arms and faced the audience, who roared in approval. He made two shallow bows, then pulled out another arrow. A hush fell over the crowd. He winked and held the arrow in his mouth. He pulled out a different arrow and without looking away from the audience, shot the smallest target which was all the way across the stage and to his right. Bullseye. The crowd cheered wildly as the target quivered from the impact.

Two clowns rolled out a ladder. Hawkeye started climbing, bow in one hand, arrow in his mouth. A drum roll echoed through the tent and everyone sat on the edge of their seats. The smallest target was tilted upwards, the arrow still in the center. He reached the top of the ladder and he stood there as the drum roll ended. A pregnant silence filled the tent. Everyone could hear as he took a deep breath, and then stepped off the ladder.

The audience screamed in terror. He pulled the arrow from his mouth, nocked the arrow, and fired. A team of four clowns caught him before he splattered on the stage and set him on his feet. Everyone turned to look at the smallest target. The original arrow had been split down the center by the second.

The crowd cheered, giving Hawkeye a standing ovation. He indulged them for a moment, waving and bowing. Then he hurried offstage with the clowns as the next act came up.

"Nice job, Clint," one of the clowns complimented. "Best show you've put on yet."

Hawkeye smiled and removed the ridiculous purple head wear he'd been wearing. "Please. That was nothing."

"Nothing?" a second clown chimed in. "You just jumped twenty-five feet of a ladder and split an arrow as you fell."

"Cheap stunt. Splitting an arrow isn't all that impressive. It's impossible really. Arrows have plastic nocks, and plastic doesn't split easy. Then the rest of the arrow is carbon fiber. But ever since Brave came out, everyone wants to see me split an arrow," Clint complained, brushing out his blonde hair with his fingers.

"Wait, if splitting an arrow's impossible, how'd you just do it?"

Clint grinned mischievously. "Trick arrow, of course. It's designed to split down the center."

"So the whole thing was just a trick then?" the first clown asked.

"This is the circus. Everything is a trick or a con. Except that I never miss my target. The trick arrow is just for the awe factor. I assure you I am the best archer in the world."

"Don't get cocky, kid."

"Yeah, it's not like that talent is helping you out a ton. You're in the circus, just like the rest of us."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You'll see."

The two clowns burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah, kid, I'm sure you're really going to show us up. You're a middle-school dropout and your only talent is from the Middle Ages. I'm sure you've got a bright future ahead of you."

Clint stalked away, their laughter following him. He knew nobody gave a damn about him. No one ever had. He was the youngest son of an abusive home. He hadn't done well in school since kindergarten and he had no friends. The only thing he was good at was archery, and that wasn't exactly raking in the riches, so like all weirdos, he'd joined the circus. He wasn't getting paid, but they weren't calling CPS and he had a roof over his head and food in his stomach. That was enough for him. It was more than he'd always had with his parents.

But he'd meant it. One day, he was going to show everyone how special he was.

* * *

"You asked to see me?" Clint said, slipping into the most ornate tent that housed the Ringmaster of the circus. He hadn't been in there since the day nearly three months ago when he'd come to that tent, fresh blood covering his face, and begged for a job, _any_ job.

He'd given it to him, mucking out stables and cleaning performer's equipment. The Ringmaster had given him his first act a month ago, after seeing Clint messing around with some of the prop bow and arrows. Clint had done his absolute best to put on a good show, topping himself week after week to be better. He would do anything to never go back home. Just being in the tent was making him uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of the reason he'd run away.

"Clint! Come in," the Ringmaster said, sitting at his desk in a tailored suit. The boy felt shabby in his frayed t-shirt and torn jeans, but he entered and sat across from the Ringmaster. "I watched your performance tonight. It was very good."

"Thank you." Despite the praise, Clint felt uneasy. Something was off. He couldn't tell what. They were alone as far as he could tell, and Clint owed this man everything. He shrugged it off as nerves.

"But times are tough, and travel is expensive. Everyone needs to earn their keep, don't they?" the Ringmaster asked, his fingers steepled.

"Of course," he agreed. "What do I need to do?"

The Ringmaster smiled indulgently. "This is why I like you, Clint. You understand hard work, and fairness. Let's start you off small. There are a few carnival tricks you still need to learn if you'll be working with us. I'm sure you'll do your absolute best."

"Or course, sir. Whatever you need."

"Starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach you some tricks myself. Come to my tent at eleven at night. We'll begin then."

Clint was overjoyed. He would be trained by the Ringmaster in person. Everyone spoke of the Ringmaster with reverence. He was a great leader, and had kept the circus running for years. A famed performer in his own days, Clint was sure the lessons from the Ringmaster would be invaluable. Better yet, it sounded like the Ringmaster planned on keeping him on for a while. His hard work had been paying off.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be on time, sir, don't worry," Clint said, practically tripping over his words in an effort to get them out.

The Ringmaster smiled. "Good boy."

* * *

Clint slipped through the crowd, keeping his head down and moving with the flow of people. The crowd was jabbering about how amazing the show had been, or talking about where they had parked their car. He was used to this. Every audience was the same, even if the faces changed. There were the families with the little kids outfitted with souvenirs, elderly couples walking leisurely and smiling at the antics of the young, loud teenagers already talking about attempting the tricks they'd seen performed and young couples on their first date night, terribly shy and blushing. Clint knew them all.

He knew that the elderly couples were most likely to be wearing expensive jewelry, and that the teenagers most likely didn't have twenty bucks between them. He knew that the purses of the mothers held absolutely everything: keys, wallets, phones, credit cards, anything they could possibly need. He knew that the young couples on date night often had a few extra bills in their pockets. The Ringmaster had taught him all of this, and more.

Clint stuck close to a family with four children. He watched as an older woman gestured with her hands, her golden bangle flashing in the bright lights. Perfect. He picked up his pace a little and then pretended to trip, grabbing the woman's arm to stop himself from falling.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed, looking down at the child clinging to her arm.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am!" Clint said, making his go eyes wide. "I tripped!"

The woman relaxed and smiled. "It's quite alright. Are you okay, young man?"

"I'm fine." Clint released her arm and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry. No harm done," the old woman teased. "Have a nice night." She turned and began walking away.

"You too…" Clint murmured, dropping his hand from his neck. He opened his hand just a crack to see a glint of gold, then quickly shut it. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and started walking. That was rule number one: don't run, walk. It was much less suspicious than doing a grab and go.

The bracelet joined the two necklaces, three wallets, and one watch in his pocket. Clint whistled to himself. Good haul tonight. The Ringmaster would be pleased with his work. Clint could tell he was quickly becoming a favorite of the Ringmaster. All the other carnies were beginning to freeze Clint out, and he'd heard them muttering among themselves that the Ringmaster was wasting his time with him. He knew they were just jealous. Being in the Ringmaster's favor came with perks. Extra pocket money, better equipment for performances, and less chores to name a few.

He picked a few more pockets and snatched a few more jewels before deciding to call it a night. He knew not to get cocky. For every dozen people you rob, there's always one who will feel your hand reaching into their pocket. Clint had learned that the hard way, and the bruises from that lesson hadn't faded entirely yet. He absently rubbed the foot shaped bruise on his stomach as he wandered back towards the temporary sea of tents where they were staying the night. Clint headed towards the central tent.

He pushed aside the fabric and said, "Ringmaster?"

"Come in, Clint."

He stepped inside. The Ringmaster was at his desk, writing in a book. He shut it as Clint entered and smiled at his youngest entertainer.

"Hawkeye! Another great performance, as always. And hopefully, you brought your cut?"

Clint made sure the tent was closed before turning out his pockets on the large desk. Jewelry and wallets slipped onto the wood surface. The Ringmaster picked up a watch and admired it with eager eyes. Clint grinned to himself, satisfied that he'd pleased his boss.

"Well done," the Ringmaster said, slipping the watch onto his own wrist. "You've truly exceeded all my expectations since I gave you a job, Clint. Gone above and beyond. If only all my employees were as dedicated to you."

"I'll do whatever you need. You can count on me," Clint promised. It disgusted him that some of the carnies got by on minimal effort, not giving back to the man who was keeping all of them safe and fed.

"Yes, I know, thank you…" The Ringmaster tilted his head, a shrewd expression on his face. "Clint, would you be willing to help out on a different venture of mine?"

"Of course. What do you need me to do?"

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

* * *

Clint frowned at the cold metal object in his hand. He knew how to use it. He and his brother had spent hours perfecting their aim, and they hadn't exactly had bows and arrows laying around the house. Clint knew how to use the gun that the Ringmaster had put in his hands. He just didn't know if he wanted to.

"Hawkeye? Are you in position?" a voice crackled over the device in his ears.

He pressed a hand awkwardly to the device. "Um, yeah. I'm in position."

"Remember, I need you to take out those two men on my signal," the Ringmaster said. "I can count on you, right, Clint?"

"Of course," Clint said, determination surging through him. He wouldn't fail the Ringmaster. He shoved any hesitations he had into the back of his mind.

"Good. Keep quiet. Be ready. You can't afford to miss."

Silence. Clint loaded the gun. He wasn't afraid of missing. He didn't miss his targets, even if they were people...no. They weren't people anymore, he couldn't think of them like that. They were nothing more than 3-D targets. He never missed his targets.

Clint laid down on his stomach and looked through the sight. A brisk breeze cut across the rooftop, making him shiver. He'd hadn't known the target until tonight, or he would have grabbed a thicker coat. Though the chill was helping distract him from the target in his cross hairs. He couldn't decide if he wanted to get his orders and get somewhere warm, or if he wanted the orders to never come, even if he had to lay on that cold rooftop all night.

"Go time."

Clint swallowed. That was it. His signal. He shifted, and took a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down around him. Breathe in. Pull the trigger. One man fell, red blossoming on the breast of his white shirt. Breathe out. Shift, pull the trigger. The second man fell straight forward. Clint dropped the gun and sat, breathing heavily. Trembling, he pressed the device in his ear.

"Targets down," Clint breathed out.

"Well done," the Ringmaster replied instantly. "Get to the car."

Silence. Clint pulled his legs up to his chest and rocked, trying to even out his breathing. He felt something wet on his face and he touched his cheeks. Tears. He sobbed and then wiped the tears away with shaking hands. He packed up the gun in his backpack, and by the time he got in the car in the alley behind the building, there was not a trace of his tears left.

The Ringmaster smiled at the young archer. "You did well tonight, Clint. I won't forget it."

* * *

"Your cut," the Ringmaster said, sliding an envelope across his desk.

Hawkeye picked it up and tucked it into the sequined vest of his custom. He'd just come from a dress run of the next performance and he was still in his gaudy get-up, complete with his quiver wedged between his back and the chair. As soon as he had completed his part of the show a carny had told him the Ringmaster was expecting him, and then hadn't given him a chance to change. He felt ridiculous sitting across from the Ringmaster, who wore a finely tailored suit, in his costume, but there was nothing that he could do about it.

"Is there anything else?" Clint asked. He knew he wouldn't have been called just for his paycheck.

"You are a smart boy," the Ringmaster said with a grin. It was no secret how fond he was of the young archer. The Ringmaster raised an eyebrow. "You've done everything I've asked so far."

"Yes."

"How much farther would you be willing to go?"

Clint's brow furrowed. "How much farther is there?"

"We've done well making small hits here and there. But one big hit and we're all set. It will have a unique set of risks, though."

Clint smirked. "Count me in, as long as I get a big cut."

The Ringmaster burst out laughing, and the boy was smiling. He could tell he'd pleased his boss with that answer. He'd quickly learned that his boss liked when his employees took risks and asked few questions. Both were things Clint found very easy to fulfill, and it had been paying off very well. He had the cash in his pocket to prove it.

"And that is why I like you. I do feel obligated to warn you ahead of time, the target is a bit different than usual."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Have you heard of a government agency called S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Clint shook his head. Being a middle school drop-out did have its disadvantages.

"Good. Then you should have no qualms stealing from them."

* * *

"Agent Hill, I have an urgent report from the convoy headed to the Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility," a S.H.I.E.L.D. analyst said from her work station.

Maria Hill stalked down the central, raised aisle to the worker. The worker's screen was displaying footage of a dark road with a small fleet of unmarked S.H.I.E.L.D. vans trundling down it. Hill frowned, not seeing what the urgency was.

"They were transporting sensitive material to Project Pegasus, right?" Hill asked. She was in charge of so many missions and people that even her superior memory could falter sometimes.

"Yes, sir. At approximately 2200 Pacific Daylight Time the convoy sent a distress call, saying they were under attack from unknown assailants. A Quinjet nearby responded to the threat, but by the time they got there, they found that half of the convoy killed, the other half either tied up or injured, and most of the materials gone."

Hill started. "Not everything was taken?"

The agent shook her head, pulling up the supply list. "No, sir. In fact, the most valuable item in transport was not taken."

"What?"

The attack on the convoy was making less and less sense. The assailants left survivors and then failed to take the most valuable item, even though the entire crew was incapacitated? It made no sense. It also didn't explain how the attackers knew about the convoy. If they had at all. Maybe it had been a random strike, and that was why they hadn't know what in the cargo was precious.

"The entire attack was strange. Based on reports from agents and video recordings, the cars tires were shot out and the drivers were killed. Clean bullets through the brain. Any scouts who then left their vehicles were similarly killed, by an unknown sniper. At that point, a group of about twenty ambushed the cars, killing and injuring the remaining crew. The group proceeded to rob the cargo and flee in cars. The S.H.I.E.L.D. group on the Quinjet found all of the cars used in the attack abandoned in a ditch less than an hour ago."

Hill wanted to scream, but instead she gritted out, "Do we have any idea who the attackers were? Any leads at all?"

"No. Because they didn't steal all of the materials, especially the precious ones, we believe these were amateurs who didn't understand what their mark was," the agent explained.

"That would make sense, but it doesn't make it any easier to find them," Hill sighed. "Keep me updated on the situation."

"Wait. There's one more thing." Hill turned back. The worker was replaying the camera footage again. Hill watched more intently this time. It was hard to make out, as it was late at night and the deserted road had very little lighting, but she had a trained eye. The tires went out. The cars careened to a stop, slamming into each other. More shots rang out, and that's when she saw it.

"There was only a single sniper," she said in surprise.

The agent nodded. "We believe so. And the sniper was one hell of a shot. All his shots stemmed from the same position. His shots were incredibly precise. Better than our top operatives."

"Do we at least know who the sniper was?" Hill asked, quickly growing exasperated. The entire situation was completely ridiculous and out of control. And she'd lost good agents on top of that.

"I'm afraid not. None of our files have any record of anyone who could make these shots. Some of the agents from the convoy are saying he had super powers."

Her head snapped up. "Shut down that rumor. We have no evidence that there were super powers at play in this attack. In fact, don't mention the sniper at all."

"Sir?" the agent asked, eyes wide.

"I'll handle the situation myself." She strode away, pulling out her phone. Her call was quickly answered. "Coulson. Have any of your kids been in the Mojave Desert region lately?"

"No, they haven't had any missions for the past three weeks," Phil answered, and she could hear the curiosity in his voice.

"You're sure?"

"Quite. I've been with them for the past week. I can personally account for the fact that they have not left the premises. What is this about?"

She hung up, leaving his question unanswered. That ruled out any Avengers, which she was glad off. But it also put her back at square one, with no clue of who this super sniper was. Which only left her with one option: to set up a trap so that she could find and take in the mystery sniper herself. Time to get to work.

* * *

"Clint!" the Ringmaster called, striding into the tent.

The sudden noise startled the boy into releasing his arrow too early and it lodged itself only halfway through the center of the target instead of in the dead center. The blonde haired boy frowned. He hated when his shots weren't perfect. He turned his head to look over at the Ringmaster, who almost never left his tent.

"Hello, sir," Clint said, standing hastily, bow still in hand and quiver rattling.

"A job has come up last minute," he said with little preamble. "Same target as last week. The idiots are sending the same goods along the same path. I need to know now, are you in or out?"

"I'm in." He didn't allow himself to think about it. With the Ringmaster, the answer was always yes.

He smiled widely. "Good. Then the same meeting place, same time. I'm counting on you, Clint."

"I won't disappoint," he swore.

"I know." Just as quickly as he'd come, the Ringmaster left.

Clint looked at the bow in his hand, rubbing his finger along the familiar material. Then he looked over at his bed, and the gun peeking out under his pillow. A cold fist gripped his heart, but he ignored the feeling and went back to his target shooting.

The arrows scraped against each other as he hit the bullseye.

* * *

Clint crawled along the forest floor, trying to keep the gun on his back from rattling. He could hear the vans growing steadily closer as they trundled along the nearby road. He came to a stop atop a small boulder and grabbed the gun, loading it quickly. Headlights illuminated the dark road. Clint couldn't help but think these S.H.I.E.L.D. guys were complete idiots for not adding more security or changing their route after their last caravan was attacked. Whatever. He would get his cut and win more favor from the Ringmaster for doing this easy job.

He could make out the individual cars now, and the drivers. He followed the same routine as last time. Tires, then drivers. This time the other people on the transports weren't foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the vehicles. No matter. Clint had done his part. The Ringmaster and the others could take care of the others. Now Clint's only job was to make sure no one escaped.

The thirteen year old was so focused on watching the action unfold, he didn't notice the dark figure in the woods behind him.

His brow furrowed. Something was going wrong with the job. The Ringmaster was yelling something he couldn't make out, and the others were milling around in confusion. He heard no sounds or struggle, or even any sign of other people on the transports. Someone threw open the doors to one of the vans, revealing a completely empty interior. No people, no prizes.

"Who the hell are you?" a cool, feminine voice said from behind him.

Clint whirled around, gun raised. A tall woman with brown hair pulled back into a bun raised an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. She wore a black jumpsuit with an eagle insignia on the shoulder. Clint didn't recognize her. He knew he should pull the trigger, but he froze. He'd never been this close to someone when he'd shot them, and his hand was trembling.

"Put the gun down," she ordered, and without thinking he dropped the gun. She seemed surprised, but quickly recovered her composure. "How old are you?"

He didn't answer. His eyes darted to the side, to where the Ringmaster's shouting was growing louder by the second. She noticed.

"So you're the sniper. I'm only asking once. Hands on your head, and on the ground."

No, no, no. He couldn't get caught. If they caught him, social service would take him back to his parents, to his father, and that couldn't happen. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never go back there, no matter what. Not allowing himself a chance to second guess himself, Clint bolted in the direction of the Ringmaster.

He didn't make it two feet. The woman grabbed him by the collar, yanked him back, and twisted his arm painfully behind his back. His thoughts narrowed down to the burning pain, and he was hardly aware of his gasping and panting. She adjusted her grip after a minute. He still couldn't move, but the pain went away. He hung limply, not willing to risk her hurting him again.

She pressed a hand to her ear. "I got the sniper. Move in. I'll meet you back at the base." She sighed, then said, "Sorry, kid. This is going to hurt."

He heard a crackle of electricity, felt a burning sensation in his side as the taste of copper filled his mouth, and then everything went black.

* * *

"What do we know about him, again?" Coulson asked, forehead creased.

"Not nearly as much as I'd like," Hill sighed.

The two of them stood outside the window looking into a pure white room. Sleeping peacefully on the bed was the sniper boy Hill had caught in the forest the night before. He hadn't woken up yet, but Hill had known that would be the case. The stunner she'd used on him was pretty strong. She had used his unconscious state to move him without struggle to a secure medical facility.

While the doctors had run tests on him all night, she had called Coulson. It might have been a bit hasty. After all, Coulson practically ran S.H.I.E.L.D. and had a menagerie of super powered children to look after. She could be bothering him for nothing. But even if her suspicions were proved wrong, she wanted his advice. Coulson was the best agent she knew. He would know what to do.

"How are that not more records on him?" Coulson asked incredulously. "From what you've said, he should have come to our attention months, if not years, ago."

"I don't understand it either. The most I've been able to dredge up is that his name is Clinton Barton, he's thirteen, and he's from Iowa, where he lived with his mother, father, and brother until approximately a year ago."

"Runaway?"

"Yep. To the circus. Very Hollywood. He's been performing with the troop for that time, using his incredible accuracy as his act. Went by the stage name Hawkeye. Apparently, his usual weapon of choice is the bow and arrow. He's just as good a shot with guns and knives though."

Coulson frowned. "Everyone thought it was just a trick, so none of our sources picked up on him."

"I came to that conclusion too." Silence fell between the senior operatives for a second. Hill broke it first. "Do you think he's super powered?"

His frown deepened even further. "I don't know. It sounds like you caught him pretty easily, but I've never heard of a person, especially a kid, who can pull off half the things he's done. We can only wait for the test results."

"And if he isn't?" she asked, nibbling at her lip.

"You don't have many options here, Maria. He killed agents."

"I know."

The silence that fell between them was heavy with thoughts that went unspoken. They watched as a doctor approached the sleeping boy and swiped various devices over his body, taking notes from time to time. The boy, Barton, didn't stir the entire time, except for the occasional dream induced twitch. Hill and Coulson both straightened as the doctor left the chamber and joined them.

"So? What are your findings?" she asked, trying to downplay her impatience.

"The boy is not an Inhuman, and he doesn't have any other physical enhancements, or super powers, that my equipment could detect. He's one hundred percent human," the doctor said, handing a tablet to Hill. She scrolled through the results. It was just as the doctor said: nothing unusual.

"Thank you," Coulson said. The doctor took that as his chance to leave. "There's your answer. He's human."

She sighed. "So what do I do with him?"

"Protocol is clear. He killed government agents."

"I know. Phil…" He met her eyes. "He's only thirteen."

"You've never been the maternal type," Coulson remarked with a small smile.

She leveled a flat gaze at him. "I'm not. But this situation is unique. I don't think the boy is bad, or meant any harm. I think he was in a bad situation, escaped it, and landed in a worse situation disguised as heaven. From statements from the group he was working with, it sounds like he was pressured into doing this. And he's so young."

Coulson looked thoughtful. "You know my opinion when it comes to kids. They deserve a second chance. I'm sure this boy was being manipulated, or else he would have shot you. But what we think doesn't matter."

"Unless it does."

"I'm not following."

Hill looked suddenly hopeful as she turned to him with wide eyes. "What if we convinced Fury that this boy is dangerous enough to be considered as a candidate for the Avengers Initiative?"

"Do you understand what you're saying?" Coulson asked, looking at her in surprise. Hill was not known for going against protocol. "Sure, he's a good shot, but I don't know if I'd label him dangerous enough to warrant sending him into near isolation for the next five or so years of his life."

"It's not isolation. Every time I check in with you a new kid has joined your program. How many are you at right now?"

"Seven," he admitted.

"And I know that you and Agent Carter are there all the time."

Coulson tried a new angle. "Do you think it's safe for him to be with the Avengers? A few of them could probably survive an atom bomb. He's completely normal, not enhanced."

"Neither is Tony Stark, and he was the first one in the program," Hill countered, then placed a hand on Coulson's arm and softened her tone. "Please, Phil. Its the Avengers or prison for him."

Coulson couldn't say no. He sighed, his shoulder slumping. Hill had found his weakness, and she knew it. "Fine. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"How many more tests do I have to do?" Clint whined as he sent three arrows flying into the throats of his targets.

The agents watching him remained silent. Like always. Clint couldn't remember a single one of them uttering a word in the two weeks they'd been assessing him. He sighed and continued his practice. He knew the only reason they allowed him to even have a weapon in his hands was because they were assessing him, but he didn't care. He had no clue what these people were planning for him, and archery was the only thing that distracted him from his situation. By pretending that he was just practicing his skills and that there was no one else in the room, he was able to stop himself from panicking.

"I don't even know what you're getting out of this anymore," Clint said, somewhat talking to himself. He was no longer naive enough to hope for an answer.

The doors at the far side of the room slid open and a familiar voice answered, "We're getting very valuable information about your gifts, Mr. Barton."

The silent agents snapped to attention as the woman from the woods strode into the room. She held herself tall, like a queen. Clint could tell that she was the senior officer in the room. He watched her enter, not sure what to make of this break in routine.

She jerked her head towards the doors. "Leave us."

Clint thought she was talking to him, but it was the agents who obediently filed out of the room, closing the door behind them. He ran his finger along the bow they'd issued him. It didn't feel right. The motion which usually comforted him did little when the material felt alien under his fingers. The woman sat in a chair, crossing her legs and watching him. He watched her back, not sure what else to do.

"I'm Agent Maria Hill, Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.," the woman said, a somewhat softer note in her voice that he hadn't heard before. "I'm sure you have some questions for me."

"What are you going to do with me?"

She smiled, just a slight curve of her mouth. "You're a bit of a tricky kid, Clint. You ran away from home. Dodged CPS. Got involved with an illegal crime ring. Attacked multiple businesses. Aided and abetted burglary, manslaughter, and theft, among other crimes. Killed some of my own subordinates." He swallowed, sensing that the next sentence would seal his fate. "And yet, I'm inclined to think that much of your history should be overlooked."

"What?" he asked blankly.

"I want to give you another chance, Clint. I don't think you deserve to be sent back to your alcoholic and, correct me if I'm wrong, abusive father. I don't think prison would be a suitable fit for you, nor do I think a prison would be able to hold you. Everything I've found out about you indicates you're a resourceful boy. So I've come up with another option."

Dread filled him. He was glad that he wasn't going to be sent home or put in juvie, but he knew that they weren't just going to let him off the hook.

"I'm sending you to a facility in upstate New York where other unique children are being kept. Once there, you will have officially been scrubbed of public record and knowledge."

"What, is it some kind of super secret juvie for freaks?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No. Although the occupants of the Facility are not allowed to leave or have contact with the outside world, it isn't what one would consider the typical jail. And I meant unique as a compliment. Your sharpshooting is a gift, Clint. Some of the other children are geniuses, or have...rarer abilities. It's a place for second chances, and I have to tell you, you are in desperate need of a second chance right now."

He frowned. He didn't understand a lot of what she was talking about, but she seemed sincere about wanting to help him. He didn't know much about this facility, but it sounded better than home. And he could he would be going there whether he wanted to or not.

"Okay. I'll go."

* * *

The Quinjet settled on the ground with a jolt and Clint woke up from his nap. He blinked blearily as Hill undid the cuffs around his wrists. He rubbed the sore areas where they had chaffed, leaving a red line in his skin.

"You won't need those here," she said, in answer to his unspoken question. She had him stand up and then led him to the lowered ramp of the Quinjet, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

As he walked down the ramp his eyes bulged out of his head at the heavenly scene he'd landed in.

As far as he could see there was beautifully manicured green lawns, littered with small groves of trees and quaint gravel roads. Off to the side he could see a row of small buildings with fancy cars parked out front and multiple helicopter pads on the roofs. Right in front of him, set in the center of the beautiful landscape, was a gorgeous mansion. It reminded him of the houses he'd seen glimpses of behind gates when he'd passed through wealthy neighborhoods. It seemed to glow in the sunlight, and he could see a pool at the back of the house that looked like it had people playing in it.

"What is this place?" he asked in awe.

"Welcome to the Avengers Facility," a tall, blonde haired man said to him with a warm smile. "I'm Steve. This is Bucky." The blonde man pointed to the person next to him, a teen with shoulder length brown hair. Clint hadn't even noticed them waiting on the airstrip. He'd been too busy taking in his surroundings.

"We can take him from here, Agent Hill," Bucky said in a low, calming drawl.

"Make sure to let Coulson know he's here. I would, but I needed to be in Russia about two hours ago," she said, letting go of Clint's shoulder and heading back into the Quinjet.

"Come on, Clint. Time for the tour of your new home," Steve said. "And we have to introduce you to all the others. They've been dying to meet you."

* * *

 **Hey, guys! Just wanted to let you know I decided to drop the rating from M to T. As always, thank you for reading, and please review.**

 **-Lady of Lorule**


	16. Chapter 16 (Interlude)

"Clint, come here!" Steve called from the living room.

Clint groaned, hastily applying a bandage to his latest cut. Pietro smirked at the archer, raising an eyebrow as he passed as if to say, _Really? Another?_ Clint stuck his tongue out at the enhanced boy, who just laughed and disappeared. Well, ran away. There was hardly a difference between disappearing and running at supersonic speed to the archer's eye. Clint absently touched his bandaged finger as he trudged down the hall.

Steve and Bucky were sitting together, Bucky's flesh arm slung around the back of the couch. That had taken some getting used to. In Clint's hometown, he had been taught homosexuals were unnatural, and his father had used some particularly vulgar language to describe people like the super-soldiers. But no one at the Facility mocked their relationship, to the archer's amazement. Even Tony never made fun of them, and he was constantly trying to rile up someone.

Clint kind of admired them. The easy familiarity to their relationship, the way they didn't hide their feelings, and the obvious love between them was hard not to notice. It seemed so beautiful, especially next to Tony and Pepper's fledgling relationship. Pepper still blushed and broke off every kiss Tony gave her in public, but when Clint had caught them making out in the kitchen one morning, they were clearly experienced.

"There you are," Steve said, smiling at the boy as he appeared in the doorway. That was another thing Clint had had to get used to: how genuinely happy everyone was to see him. "I have something that I want you to see." As he saw the wary look on Clint's face, he added, "You'll like it."

"Okay."

Steve kissed Bucky's temple as he extricated himself from his boyfriend's arms. Bucky didn't look too pleased with the change, but he just waved at Clint before turning his attention back to Wanda, Bruce, and Pietro, who were playing a video game together. They hadn't even noticed Clint because they were so absorbed in their game. He didn't recognize what they were playing. Not that he had ever had much access or time to play video games.

"Right this way. It's just past the pool," Steve said as he led Clint down the halls he was slowly becoming familiar with. He knew they were heading towards the pool, which he hadn't swum in yet. A light dusting of snow still covered much of the Facility's extensive lawns, though there was less and less by the day. "I'd hoped it would be done yesterday, but Tony finished the final touches only yesterday. He's a bit of a perfectionist, which is why he wouldn't let anyone see it until it was done."

Clint's curiosity grew. He'd seen quite a few of Tony's inventions in the few weeks he'd been living in the Facility, and every one of them were incredible, well beyond anything Clint could have imagined. The holographic screens that were commonplace around the house, the single generator he could fit in the palm of his hand that powered the entire Facility, and, of course, Tony's Iron Man suits. As soon as he saw those he understood instantly why S.H.I.E.L.D. was keeping Tony in the Avengers. His brand of genius could be used either to save the word or to bring it to its knees. He couldn't imagine what Tony had made for him, and why Steve would be so excited about it.

"What is it?" Clint asked, the suspense killing him. He'd never been very patient.

Steve grinned, amused at his reaction. "Come here."

They walked around small, artificial waterfall that fell into the pool and on the other side was a huge lawn, one of the few uninterrupted by the roads that crisscrossed the Facility. At first, Clint was just confused. Then he noticed the glass shed built against the back of the waterfall's rock formation. Inside of which there were racks and racks of arrows and bows of every different variety. He froze in his tracks. Steve approached the shed and pressed his hand to the door. A small light flashed green over the doorway and it slid open.

"You coming?" he teased, stepping in.

Clint unfroze and sprinted inside. He used his hands to stop him before he knocked over a rack and stared with wonder-filled eyes at the equipment. Compound bows, recurve bows, and longbows by the dozen, and he even spotted two crossbows. A wide variety of arrows were grouped by the dozens, marked by different color fletchings. He drifted over to an enormous barrel of arrows and ran his hand over the nocks. Then he turned to Steve, who was leaning against the wall and watching him with a small smile.

"What do you think? Tony and I slapped it together, but if we forgot anything, or you need anything, just let us know. Neither of us are archery experts, but we did some research," Steve explained.

"This is _awesome,"_ Clint whispered, spinning around, trying to take it all in. He let out a breathless laugh. "This must have cost a fortune, I don't even know what to say. I feel like I'm dreaming."

"I'm glad you like it. Come over here." Clint drifted over to the counter, which he now say was covered with arm guards, finger guards, spare nocks and fletching, and other repair bits for the weapons. "All the tools and stuff. Tony could help out with any of this if you need, or probably even Bruce."

Clint shook his head. He knew how to use everything before him, though he'd never had access to stuff of such good quality, not even with the Ringmaster. Finally, he met Steve's eyes.

"Thank you. I don't think I could ever repay you for this. It's everything I've ever wanted."

The super-soldier smiled. "Nothing to repay. It's a gift. It was Tony's money, anyways, so you should probably thank him if anyone."

"I will," Clint said, nodding solemnly.

"Seriously, it's not a big deal. You're an Avenger, like the rest of us, and we provide for each other. Do you want to stay here?"

"Yes," he blurted out. "I need to test out everything. Twice."

Steve laughed softly. Clint prided himself on being good at judging people from his time as a pickpocket. He had had to know who was the easiest to steal from and who would be least likely to notice. So he had taken to looking at the Avengers as marks when he'd first come to the Facility, and he'd noticed that Steve rarely fully smiled or truly laughed. He did, but they were usually quick expressions of happiness. Most of the time he fell into a solemn silence, either watching the others protectively or getting lost in thought. Clint had only ever seen Bucky make Steve give a full smile, or an actual laugh. Another reason he respected their relationship.

"Go for it. Do you want me to hang around, or do you want some privacy?"

Clint was really warming up to Steve. He could tell the older teen wouldn't be offended at all if Clint sent him away, so he did exactly that. His fingers twitched to pick up the gorgeous bows. He had a feeling he wouldn't be spending a lot of time indoors in the next few days. Not when he had an archery range all for himself.

* * *

"You're quiet today, Doc," Bucky commented. The super-soldier was sitting on one of the counters in the the lab/Med Bay, absently tuning his metal arm with a small screwdriver he'd knicked from Tony.

"Just distracted. You don't have to keep me company," Bruce assured him, worrying that he was boring Bucky.

"Nah, I like watching you work. And you don't yell at me for asking questions like Stark."

The genius's lips twitched. "To be fair, you did set his suit on fire that one time."

"I didn't mean to! And if he had answered my questions, I wouldn't have touched that button," he grumbled sullenly. "Seriously, what's on your mind?"

Bruce frowned, cleaning his glasses on his lab coat. He didn't mind Bucky asking him personal questions. They'd formed a surprising friendship since the Winter Soldier had entered the Avengers program. Bucky's natural love of science had driven him to hang out in the lab while Tony and Bruce worked, and when Bruce had been forthcoming about explaining what his experiments were Bucky had started dropping in more frequently. Now it was a common occurrence to find the assassin down in the lab.

"I've just been thinking about the new Avenger," Bruce answered after a minute.

"Clint? What about him? Do you not like him or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that." He sighed and put his glasses back on. "It's just that he seems so...defenseless."

Bucky grinned. "I wouldn't say that. He took out trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agents with a couple o' arrows."

"I meant physically defenseless. He's not like you, or Steve, or Peter. No speed healing or durability. Doesn't have any special abilities like the twins." Bruce squeezed the counter with unnecessary force. "I was just thinking that if...if I do lose control, and–and I don't think he'll be able to protect himself. From me." The words tasted like ash in Bruce's mouth, and he couldn't meet Bucky's eyes.

The super-soldier shoved off the counter and walked over, resting a large, warm hand on the genius's shoulder. "Hey," he said gently, in the tone usually reserved for Steve or Peter. Bruce looked up at him. "That's not going to happen. _You_ are in control, and you'd never hurt any of us, including Clint. I know how it feels to be helpless and out-of-control. Its fucking terrifying. So I know why you're scared, and I know why you're worried. But you're not giving yourself enough credit, Bruce. When was the last time you slipped?"

"Five hundred and thirty-eight days," he answered automatically. He kept track on a whiteboard in his room. One tally for every day he kept the other guy in check.

"You really want to break that streak?" Bucky asked and Bruce let out a laugh, which was not much more than a gasp. Bucky smiled at him, even though he knew why Bruce always cut his laughter short, and it broke his heart. This poor kid couldn't even trust his own emotions, spent every waking moment trying to keep himself as neutral as possible. That wasn't a way to live.

"No."

"Exactly. So don't. Nothing has to change. We just got another mouth to feed. S'all."

Bruce relaxed just a little, and smiled up at the super-soldier. "Thanks, Bucky. I really needed to hear that."

"I know. Steve has to give me the same speech sometimes."

* * *

Wanda felt Pietro's chest shake under her head. He was laughing at whatever American movie he was watching, his arm slung over her as she laid against him. Steve and Bucky had been helping her strengthen her telekinesis by stopping objects in motion by throwing household appliances off the roof and telling her to stop them before they hit the ground. Tony had watched the whole session, horrified by the blatant disregard the three of them had for his furniture. It had been exciting, and fun, but now she was worn out. Not physically, but mentally. When she had tried to ask Pietro something telepathically, the concentration had been too much for her, so she'd spoken aloud instead.

Pietro had wanted to stay up and watch movies, his latest obsession, and Wanda had decided to stay up with him. She hated being alone, especially at night. It reminded her too much of cowering under the bed, a bomb grinning at her from the kitchen as she waited to join her parents in the next life. Her eyes kept drifting shut, only disturbed by Pietro's sporadic laughter.

It was nice. The peace, the safety they'd found at the Facility, to do small things, like have a movie night together. Something so insignificant, but a luxury they'd never had until they'd been forced into the Avengers program. It was perfect.

Wanda let her eyes close again. If she fell asleep, she knew Pietro would carry her to bed when his movie ended. Her consciousness started to drift, a soft smile on her face, which twisted into a frown as a sharp emotion pulsed through her. Since she still felt peaceful, she knew she must be picking up on someone else's feelings. Normally she could filter those emotions out, but her concentration was frayed and it was too much effort to keep up her normal shields. Someone in the Facility was having a nightmare.

She groaned a little, and Pietro petted her hair, thinking she was having a restless dream. Wanda wanted to drift off the sleep, but she knew she wouldn't be able to if whoever was having a nightmare kept sending her those annoying bursts of emotion. Sighing, she pushed herself up, determined to go find whoever it was, wake them up, then knock them out herself if she had to.

"What's wrong?" Pietro asked in Sokovian, which they still spoke to each other when they were alone. He knew she felt more comfortable speaking her native tongue, but she insisted on using only English around the others to get better at the language.

"Can't sleep. Be right back," she said, kissing his cheek and getting up. He searched her face for a second, nodded, then turned back to his movie. He was used to her strange habits.

She set off down the hall towards the bedrooms. As she passed the doors, she reached out with her mind towards the occupants, trying to weed out who was having the nightmare. Not Bruce, or Tony, Pepper, and Peter, who were all deep asleep in their suite. When she passed Steve and Bucky's room, she quickly realized they were very awake, and very busy with each other. A blush flared on her cheeks as she sped past their door. That left one person. She reached out and recoiled as a wall of fear slammed into her. The newest Avengers, Clint, was having a nightmare.

For a second, she hesitated. She didn't know the newest Avenger very well, and she didn't know how he'd react to her waking him up in the middle of the night. Then she let out a huge yawn and decided her sleep was more important at the moment. Even if he got mad, she'd make it up to him somehow later. She stepped forward and opened the door as quietly as she could and crept inside.

His room was sparsely decorated. He had tons of archery equipment scattered in places, along with clothes, and stuff like bandages and a hairbrush. All the furniture was what all standard guest rooms had, and the walls were still white and blank. She tiptoed over to his bed, where the blonde archer was deep asleep, wracked by random spasms, probably from his nightmare. Wanda hesitated only a second before sending a tendril of power to wake him up.

The effect was immediate. He bolted upright and reached for the small dagger on his nightstand that she hadn't noticed. With a flick of her wrist the knife went sailing out of reach. Clint's eyes snapped to her, then softened a moment later in recognition.

"Wanda," he sighed. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"You were having a nightmare," she whispered, though she didn't know why, since he was already awake and the walls were soundproof.

"How do you know that?" he asked, forehead scrunching.

"I can sense it."

A spark of fear lit in his eyes. "Can you see my dreams?"

"If I wanted," she admitted. "But I didn't look. It's not my place to go into other's heads without their permission."

"Oh." He relaxed. "Thanks for waking me up, I guess."

She nodded. "If you want, I could put you back to sleep," she offered, a nervous edge to her voice. "I could make sure you don't have a nightmare."

"You can do that?"

"Not every night. It takes a lot of energy, but I'm going to sleep anyways, so I could do it. If you want. Or not."

She wasn't used to being awkward around people. But besides Pietro, Clint was the first boy her age she had talked to in nearly two years. And she had just barged into his bedroom and woken him up from a nightmare in the middle of the night. It was awkward. She wanted to peek into his head, see how he felt, but she restrained the urge. He had the right to privacy.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Could you?"

Relief swept through her. "Of course. Lie back." He followed her orders. She held one hand over his temple, and red mist wafted off her fingers. Her eyes flashed red and his eyes closed. Sound asleep. A new wave of exhaustion swept through her.

 _Pietro,_ she thought faintly. A second later her brother's arms gathered her up as she fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

"Again."

The dancers raised themselves to their toes and performed the spin in perfect unison. They all finished their turn and set themselves in ready position, chins held high and eyes trained straight ahead. They looked like soldiers, not ballerinas.

"Again," Headmistress said flatly.

Natasha stepped in time with the other dancers, flawlessly executing the turn. Then she stood in ready position, arms raised in front of her, and despite the burning throughout her body, none of the pain showed on her face. Signs of exhaustion were showing on the other girls: sweat-soaked skin, trembling arms, and drooping eyes. Natasha raised her chin even higher, determined not to show weakness.

"Again."

Another turn. A girl two ahead of Natasha finally gave out. She lost balance on the turn and stumbled before joining the others in ready position, but the damage was done. Headmistress had seen her misstep. The girls straightened as Headmistress walked over to them, passing down the line. Every girl she passed felt relieved. Natasha could do nothing but watch as Headmistress stopped before the unfortunate girl.

"You are dismissed," Headmistress whispered to the girl, her thin lips barely moving. Natasha felt chilled at hearing the icy undertone to Headmistress's voice.

The girl bowed her head and fled the room, blood staining the toes of her slippers. Headmistress returned to her position in the front of the room, and before Natasha could spare another thought for the girl, she heard her say, "Again."

* * *

"Romanova," Headmistress said as the girls tried to quietly change out of their leotards.

Natasha stood and went to Headmistress barefoot. She knew her teacher would not wait for her to put her slippers back on, and that she would be punished if she tried. She knew the other girls were watching her, but she ignored them, as if they were beneath her. Headmistress turned and left the room, Natasha following her obediently.

They walked down the cold, sterile walls of the Red Room in silence. They did not talk, and neither set of feet made a sound. Natasha desperately wanted rest, her legs trembling from hours spent standing on her toes, but she knew that would have to wait. She would have to stand tall and strong until she could slip under her thin blanket and close her eyes for a few hours. Noticing her attention slip, she refocused on Headmistress's back.

Headmistress stopped without warning in front of a black, white door. Natasha came to a halt and stared ahead, not meeting Headmistress's eyes.

"Are you tired, Natalia?"

"Yes, Headmistress." She knew better than to try and lie. Natasha could fool any machine, any man, into believing her, but not her teacher.

"I have a job for you, Natalia. Will you do it?"

"Yes, Headmistress." There was no other answer, except failure. She would never accept failure.

"Good." She pulled a gun from her waistband and held it out to Natasha. The girl with flame-colored hair wrapped her small fingers around the handle of the weapon. As Headmistress opened the door, Natasha held the gun expertly, not seeming fazed.

Headmistress shut the doors once Natasha stepped through. The girl stood in place, staring at the single object in the room: a man, gagged and bound, kneeling in the center of the room and shaking. His nice suit had been soiled and as Natasha observed him with a blank face, he lifted his head to looked at her pleadingly. Terror and anguish mingled in his face with the tear that streaked his cheeks and the blood on his lip.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," Headmistress said, standing in the corner of the room.

"What do you wish me to do, Headmistress?"

"Kill him."

The man's eyes went wide and he began thrashing. There was a zapping sound and the hair on Natasha's arm stood as electricity crackled. The cable used to tie him must have been designed to zap him if he moved from his spot. She wondered how long he had been kneeling there, in his own waste, and how many times he had tried to move, or slumped in exhaustion, only to be electrocuted. She didn't think it could have been that long. He still seemed alert.

"Put a bullet through his heart," Headmistress instructed. "Do not miss. You only get one bullet."

That would not be a problem. Natasha knew she would not miss. She raised her arm and clicked off the safety. It was an older handgun, not as sleek or well crafted as the Stark models that a professional killer preferred, but it would do the job. Her finger hovered over the trigger as she met the man's terrified eyes. He made a pathetic whimper as she pulled down on the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room and a red flower blossomed on the man's chest.

Natasha turned towards Headmistress and didn't flinch when the body hit the floor. Headmistress examined the body a bit, and the river of blood flowing across the pristine floor towards her sluggishly. She took the gun from her pupil.

"That is the job," she said, slipping the firearm back into her waistband.

"That was it?" Natasha asked in confusion. Shooting an unarmed man who couldn't offer any resistance? Any of the girls could have done that, albeit they might have taken longer or gotten sentimental about it.

"No, that man was not the job." Headmistress pulled out a device and a hologram of a man wearing a trenchcoat and an eyepatch appeared over the screen. "This man is the target. I want you to put a bullet through his heart. He will not be so easy to kill. You will likely only have one shot at him, and you will not be able to afford a hesitation."

"I will not fail you," Natasha swore.

"I know, little one. You are the best Widow we have. Do this, kill the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you will become the greatest of them all."

* * *

"Hello, little Miss," a waitress said, a friendly smile plastered across her face as she approached the cafe table where Natasha was sitting alone. "Are you all alone?"

The girl was annoyed. She was twelve, but her short stature often led to people assuming she was younger and speaking condescendingly towards her. It was infuriating, especially because she would end the waitress's life without breaking a sweat. But none of that showed on her face. She smiled pleasantly back at the waitress.

"My mom is across the street," Natasha said in a perfect American accent. "She forgot her purse in the store. She told me to wait for her here."

"Oh, okay. I'll just come back in a few to then, alright?" The waitress strode off, any suspicions she'd had gone. People were too gullible. Or maybe Natasha was just a good liar. Either way, it made it easier for her to accomplish her task. No one suspected a little girl in a parka to be scouting out the Triskelion, the headquarters of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, better than by its acronym, S.H.I.E.L.D.

The cafe Natasha had chosen was in the shadow of the Triskelion in Washington D.C., along the banks of the Potomac River. It was a pleasant day, and there were a steady stream of tourists, joggers, and dog-walkers coming in and out of the cafe. The tourists gawked at the towering form of the Triskelion, but locals eyes glazed past it. It wasn't of any note to them. Most people only had a vague understanding of what S.H.I.E.L.D. did, and even fewer were allowed any access at all onto Triskelion grounds.

Natasha was slightly impressed, and a bit worried, because of the many security measures S.H.I.E.L.D. had in place around their headquarters. She'd spotted multiple patrols circling the building, both in disguise and in uniform. The gates to enter the grounds were tall, electrified, under camera surveillance, and had two guards who regularly reported their status. It looked airtight. But she knew there had to be some weakness. No place was impenetrable. And she could not allow herself to return to the Red Room without the Director's head, or they would take her own. She valued her life too much to let that happen.

With a sigh she slid out of her cozy little booth. She would only gather suspicion the longer she sat there alone, and there was nothing more she could learn about the front gate at the time. She'd already been in D.C. a week, trying to find a way to infiltrate the headquarters, but it had turned out to be much harder than anticipated. Even the few schematics Headmistress had provided her with were hopelessly outdated. Headmistress hadn't been pleased when Natasha had reported the setback, but had agreed to allow her pupil more time. She wouldn't waste it. It was time for another lap around the grounds. Maybe she would finally find a weak point.

Maybe.

* * *

"Report," Headmistress ordered, her dark eyes boring into Natasha. Her presence was no less intimidating on a computer screen than in person.

Natasha straightened her posture on instinct, even though only her head was visible. "I believe I have found a way into the Triskelion."

"Believe?"

Natasha wanted to swallow, but that was a sign of nerves. She couldn't show that weakness. She was already working hard to keep her face blank and her voice steady. This was the biggest and most important mission Headmistress had sent her on yet, and she didn't want to disappoint.

"I will only have one chance to test the entrance, so I can't say for sure yet if its a viable option. All my research indicates that it is." Headmistress's expression didn't change, but she waved a hand, an obvious sign for Natasha to continue. "There has been another setback, however."

"What?"

"The Director isn't in the Triskelion."

Natasha couldn't help but wince. Headmistress had gone very still and the girl braced herself for the storm that was coming.

"Where the fuck is he?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

"I don't know-"

"You _don't know?!"_

"Not yet!" Natasha amended. "He left on a private plane at 22:00. The plane disappeared from view at about 22:05. I believe it was using cloaking. Until the plane drops its cloaking when it lands, I have no way of tracking it. It has yet to set down."

"Natalia, listen to me very carefully," Headmistress said, seemingly regaining her composure. "Unless I hear news that Nick Fury is dead by the end of the week, don't bother to show your face back here. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Headmistress."

"The Red Room does not have time to waste on failures. Do not become one."

The screen went dark. Natasha moved to close the laptop, then froze and stared at her hand. It was shaking. Her heart was beating fast and she could hear her breath. It was happening. All her worst fears were coming true. They were going to kill her. She was going to fail, and her sisters would be sent after her to take her out. She slammed the laptop shut then threw it against the wall.

"Get a hold of yourself," she ordered, wrapping her arms around her middle. "You are a Black Widow. Get a hold of yourself."

The shaking didn't quite subside, but her breathing evened out. She set her shoulders and grabbed her Widow Stings. The tracking device she'd set on the Director's plane had yet to resurface. When it did, she would be ready. She would find him, and she would take him out. One clean shot was all it would take.

She would not fail.

* * *

Natasha left in the middle of the night. The tracker had finally come back online. The Director's plane had settled somewhere in upstate New York. Satellite images had shown that the location was just an undeveloped plot of land, and the plane had been nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean much. She knew the plane had cloaking capabilities. She couldn't image why the Director of a prominent peacekeeping organization would be in rural New York, without any habitation around for miles, but in the end it didn't matter.

He could be in Antarctica, he could be in Los Angeles, he could be anywhere in the world. She would still follow him, and finish her mission.

Luckily the Red Room had lent her a plane in case a complication had arisen on the job. She just had to get to New York before he left.

* * *

"What the hell?" she murmured to herself, along with some American curse words she'd picked up while walking around Washington D.C.

The plot of land where she'd tracked Fury to was not empty or undeveloped. Quite the opposite. It was a huge complex enclosed within a tall, fortified fence. There were barracks, hangars, guard towers, and a mansion sat at the center, along with acres of sprawling land, both of lawns and thin woods. None of which had shown when she'd checked the satellite image. How the hell had they managed to erase that much stuff from satellite imaging? Not even the Red Room had accomplished that!

She steered the plane down and settled a bit away from the complex. She needed to rethink her approach. Just from looking at the place she could tell it might be even more dangerous to break into than the Triskelion. What on earth was Fury doing at this place? There were no S.H.I.E.L.D. records of this place, according to the Red Room, and all underground organizations. It was like it didn't exist, except that it was right before her eyes. Who owned this place? She didn't have enough information to plan anything. What if it was a Red Rooms facility, and she attacked her own peers? They'd deserve it, but Headmistress would be displeased.

Natasha bit her lip. Her options, and time, were running out. She only had three days left to kill Nick Fury. Headmistress would be even less pleased if she failed in that task. That settled it. She would have to carry out the mission here, regardless of the consequences. She would find a way to get inside, find Fury, take him out, and get out quick.

"I miss the Triskelion," she mumbled to herself as she pulled out a black leather jumpsuit.

* * *

She couldn't believe the security on this place. Getting past the fence had been brutal. Ten feet high, five feet thick, patrols and cameras covering every inch of it, along with mounted firearms. What the hell were they keeping here?! Every step deeper into the Facility was only making her more curious. The interior looked like a cross between a military base and a millionaire's summer home. She'd avoided the barracks as much as she could. All of the patrol routes stemmed from there. She had a feeling she needed to get to the glorious mansion sitting at the center, but that wouldn't be easy. There was no cover around it for hundreds of yards, and no one seemed to go to it.

"Why would a mansion be so heavily guarded?" she asked herself. It made no sense. Nothing about this did. If she had to guess, based on the fortifications, she would say that all those defenses were to keep the mansion locked up, not safe. Like it was a prison disguised as a dream house.

Natasha ducked out from the tree and flung a small device onto a camera overhead. The camera shut down, but she wasted no time. She had no doubt someone was monitoring the cameras and would either fix it remotely or send a patrol. She couldn't afford to be caught. She didn't have enough time to escape captivity and kill Nick Fury in two days. She'd wasted enough time getting inside as it was. Finding an entry point had not been easy.

She was getting closer to the hangar. It had had relatively low activity compared to other places on the premise, so she had decided to head there and figure out her plan. It wasn't hard to get inside, and it didn't have any patrols, though the amount of cameras made up for that. She flung a few more devices as she hurried inside until she found a supply closet and locked herself in there. Another camera. Luckily it was dark in the closet, so she knew the camera didn't see her until she shut it down. She reached back into her belt and came up empty. She'd run out of jammers. Damn. A necessary expense, but it limited her ways out.

Natasha looped the footage on the camera in the closet and settled down, her body trembling. She'd been sneaking around on the most secure campus she had ever seen in her life, and her nerves and muscles were fraying. She'd never been so tense in her life. There was no time to focus on that though. She was relatively safe for now in the closet, so she needed to get some rest, then find Nick Fury. She set up an alarm on the door, checked the camera was out of commission, and then laid down, exhaustion sweeping her away.

* * *

"Okay, Tony, Wanda, Pietro, and I will be ready to move out by nightfall," Steve said.

"Good. I don't like the situation in New Mexico at all," Fury said, fingers laced together.

Tony yawned. "Why are we doing this at seven in the morning? Don't you people sleep?"

"Yeah, but we go to sleep before the sun rises," Steve pointed out. The genius gave him an unamused look. "And we don't want everyone in on this, so we had to do it before they woke up."

"Like Barnes isn't waiting for you right outside," he grumbled.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Fury asked in exasperation. Both teens fell silent and Fury sighed in relief. "Thank you. I'll have a Quinjet ready for you, but I think having Barton on the roster would be a good idea. Some sniper support."

The three of them were sitting in Tony's garage, steaming cups of coffee in front of all of them. Files, both physical and holographic were strewn around them, all regarding the unidentified object that had landed in New Mexico a few days ago. Steve and Tony knew that if Fury had come in person to update them and assign them to a mission, then it was serious. Possible world destruction serious. Which was why they were determined to keep the others as in the dark as possible so as not to worry them.

"I thought you hadn't cleared Clint for combat yet," Steve said. "And if you want a sniper, Bucky could come along."

"No, but I can fix that. He's a damn good sniper. Even better than Barnes. And I want Barnes here. Someone needs to look out for the kids while you're out of town, and Coulson is on assignment right now. Barnes stays."

"Are we just going to overlook the fact that a few months ago Barton was killing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and now you want him to protect them?" Tony pointed out, ever the contrary voice.

"The twins attacked you, Stark, less than a year ago, and you're not objecting to them being on the mission. What's your problem with Barton?"

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Fury pressed, not changing his tone.

"It's noth—" the genius broke off, his eyes flickering over to his screen. "Did anyone else see that?"

"Tony," Steve groaned. "Stop changing the subject."

"I'm not! I swear…" he didn't finish his sentence. The genius got up and walked over to his wall of monitors. "J, reverse hangar feed by fifteen seconds."

"Yes, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, and one of the screens rewinded. Tony watched it intently. Fury and Steve watched in interest. Tony could be paranoid, but his instincts were usually good. Steve was skeptical because he hadn't noticed anything, and he had the better senses.

There was a flash of red hair, an electric crackle, and then the feed was back to normal, displaying an empty closet. Steve frowned. That couldn't have been a glitch. Tony's system was too good.

"What was that, Stark?" Fury demanded.

Tony pulled up a holographic screen and started typing rapidly. "I think we have an intruder in the hangar."

"There's no way," Steve objected instantly. "Your cameras and sensors, or the patrols, would have caught an intruder long before they could even get to the hangar. Anyways, who could it be? No one knows we're here. Most of S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know we're here."

"Goddammit!" Tony yelled. "Someone looped my feeds!"

"Can you fix it?" Fury asked.

"Of course I can. One second...there!"

The screen changed again. Now it showed a small figure with a shock of bright red hair curled on the floor of the broom closet, fast asleep. A computer and some other tools were scattered around her, and it appeared a tripwire had been set up on the door. Steve stood and moved closer. It looked like girl, maybe eleven or twelve, and she was armed. He counted three guns on her, along with whatever was in her belt and whatever the gauntlets on her wrist could do.

"Run a scan on her," Steve ordered.

Tony ran the scan, and a second later shook his head. "Her face isn't in any of our databases. But, that symbol on her belt is. The hourglass. It's the mark of the—"

"Red Room," Fury finished, face grave. "She's an assassin. A Black Widow."

Steve looked at him in shock. "She's twelve!"

"That's what the Red Room does, Rogers. Steals little girls and turns them into ruthless weapons, all in the name of Mother Russia. These Black Widow agents are responsible for countless assassinations and terrorist acts all over the world. I've never had the displeasure of seeing such a young one. They usually keep them in total confinement until they're teenagers, beautiful enough to seduce their targets. She must be exceptional if they set her on this particular assignment."

"And what would that be?"

"To kill me, of course."

* * *

"Director, stay back, I can handle the girl," Steve said, even though he knew it was futile.

"I give the orders, Rogers," Fury responded, loading his gun.

"Sir, if she'd here to kill you, going right to her will only give her a chance to accomplish her task. Let Tony and I disarm her at least before you rush in."

"That's enough, Captain."

"In there," Tony's mechanized voice said as he set down on the ground beside them, encased in his latest armor. Steve felt like Tony had a new suit for every mission. The suit pointed at a door. The closet where the Widow was hiding.

Fury started moving in on the target, Tony next to him, hands raised and repulsors emitting a dull whine as they charged. Steve followed, not grabbing his shield yet. He couldn't just whap a little girl over the head with solid vibranium, it went against every slightly-outdated manners that his mother had taught him, even if that girl was an assassin. His super strength would have to be enough, and if not, that's why Tony had come.

The hangar was empty because of the early hour, and Fury had instructed them not to alert any patrols. Apparently he thought that the less people who knew about the intruder the better. Steve had only been able to tell Bucky to stay alert before rushing to the hangar. Hopefully that punk would listen and guard the younger ones.

Tony suddenly sprung forward and ripped the door off its hinges. The girl sprung to life instantly, clearly confused, but not allowing that to stop her from pulling out to guns and letting out a rapid series of shots. Steve and Fury ducked behind some crates, but the shots just bounced off Tony's armor. The Widow began running towards the open hangar door, apparently deciding to take her chances with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents than with Iron Man.

"J, close hangar!" Tony ordered, and the hangar doors went rumbling door. The girl kept charging, even as her window of opening got smaller and smaller. Tony blasted her with a repulsor and she got flung sideways. She contorted in midair to land on all fours, then began blasting at Tony again, her shots precise, if ineffective.

"Stark, down!" Fury yelled. Tony flew out of the way as Nick popped up and began firing at the girl. She zigzagged until she found cover behind a small aircraft. Fury tossed Steve a gun and the two began advancing, Tony taking the third side. They had her cornered, but she was far from unarmed or helpless. They all kept up a steady stream of fire as they got closer and closer to the aircraft. She let off a few shots, but she was under too heavy a fire to do much.

Steve and Tony stopped ten feet away on either side of her, weapons poised. She was a small thing with an athletic build and short, curly red hair. She wore a black catsuit and held a pistol in either hand. Her head whipped back and forth between the two of them. Before they could stop her, she threw her guns at them then slid under the aircraft, popping to her feet on the other side. Her eyes went wide as she say Fury standing directly in front of her, gun pointed at her and a stony expression on his face.

She pulled out another gun from her waistband, flipping as Fury shot at her. She landed in a crouch, gun raised, and pulled the trigger. Fury fell, his gun clattering out of her hand.

"No!" Tony yelled, flying right into her. She was knocked down. He straddled her, her punching and struggling ineffective against the gold-titanium alloy. He held his repulsor directly over her chest and shot her. She went still.

"Fury!" Steve yelled, sliding over to the fallen Director. A bullet hole tore through his coat and Steve ripped his clothes away, focused on getting to the wound. He sagged in relief as he pulled aside Fury's shirt to reveal a bulletproof vest. Of course he'd been prepared. He probably slept in a vest.

Tony landed next to him, visor flipping up. "Oh thank God. J.A.R.V.I.S., call Bruce. Code red. And call Barnes. Tell him to bring restraints."

"Yes, sir."

Steve fell back, tossing his gun aside. "What'd you shoot her with?"

"New non-lethal weapon I've been working on. I haven't tested it much, but I think she's just unconscious," Tony responded, pulling off his helmet and sitting next to Steve. "What now?"

"I don't know. Coulson is on a mission, and Peggy is in Asia. I guess we should call Hill?"

"Okay. Let's get Fury back to the lab, then call Hill." Tony's gaze shifted over to the unconscious redhead. "And we're locking her up until Fury decides what to do with her. I don't care if she's a kid, Steve. I'm not letting an assassin wander around our house."

Steve didn't like it, but he knew Tony was right. "Okay, fine."

* * *

"You boys did good," Maria Hill said, sitting outside the Medbay with Steve, Tony, and Bucky. "Where are you keeping the girl?"

"In the room I designed to hold Bruce in in case of an emergency. She won't be escaping, I assure you," Tony said, a dark undertone to his voice.

"Here," Steve said, passing the Deputy Director a tablet that was showing live feed of the cell the Widow was being held in. Hill's eyes examined the screen critically. "She hasn't woken up yet."

"What should we do with her?" Bucky asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

Silence. Hill tapped her finger against the screen. "We'll let Fury decide. For now, we'll keep her in there. When she wakes up, we can talk some more."

The door to the Medbay opened and Bruce stepped out. Everyone's eyes snapped to the closest thing they had to a resident doctor. Hill and Steve seemed especially anxious. Both were very close to Fury, or as close as anyone could be to the Director.

"He's fine. The vest protected him very well, even at the close range," Bruce announced and a sigh of relief went through the room. "Cracked two ribs, but he should be up and about within a day or two. He's awake and wants to see you, Ms. Hill."

"Finally, some good news," Hill sighed, rubbing her temples. "Thank you, Banner."

"No problem. I need to go check up on the girl now," Bruce said.

"I'm coming with." Bucky stood, kissed Steve's forehead and followed Bruce out of the room.

Hill stood and went to the Medbay. From within, they heard Fury say, "Might as well bring in Rogers and Stark."

The teens shared a look, then followed Hill inside. Fury was sitting up on a hospital bed, his torso wrapped in bandages, but he looked very alert, if also very pissed off. The three of them sat around him, Tony taking the farthest chair by the wall.

"We'll talk about the girl in a second," Fury said, "but first, our conversation from this morning is still valid."

Tony snorted. "Don't know what else I was expecting from you."

"The New Mexico situation is very urgent, and my men are going to need some special help on the job."

"I'm sorry, what's in New Mexico?" Hill interrupted.

"An 0-8-4. Alien object. I have Coulson down there, but I want some Avengers on the scene just in case."

Hill raised an eyebrow. "You want to go send children to deal with an alien object and possibly aliens?"

"I want them to assist. Coulson will be the one dealing with it." He turned back to Steve and Tony. "Send the twins as planned. Steve, you're still going. Bring Clint, keep an eye on him. Stark stays."

"Hey, wait, why am I getting benched?!" Tony complained. "I haven't been on a mission in months, bench Steve!"

"Really, Tony?" Cap said in exasperation. "What are you, six?"

"Gentlemen," Hill said, and they turned to her. "You're both acting like you're six. And you have your orders. Stark, you stay, Rogers, you go. Done."

Fury nodded in satisfaction at Hill's no-nonsense manner. He knew she was a good pick for Deputy Director. Tony folded his arms and pretended not to pout and Steve just sighed. He was a soldier at heart, and he would follow orders.

"Great. And Stark, you're staying because I'm keeping the girl here."

"Sir?" Steve asked, trepidation suddenly coursing through him.

"The Black Widow will be joining the Avengers."

* * *

Natasha stared at the blank walls. There was nothing else to do. When she'd woken up, her chest burning, she'd found herself in a huge, cubical room that was white. Nothing was in it, not even a bed or a toilet, and the walls, floor, and ceiling were all white. She couldn't even tell how she had been put in the cube. There were no discernible doors or hatches of any kind.

They'd taken all her things, including her suit. She wore a plain white dress, a little too big on her. She wondered whose it was, because it wasn't a generic dress. It was an off-shoulder sundress, something she imagined a teenager would buy to wear to the beach. It was extremely odd that she'd be wearing it. That wasn't so bad though. The worst part wasn't the boredom, or the absence of her weapons; the worst part was not knowing if she'd completed her mission.

Natasha remembered the fight in the hangar. Three men. One in tactical gear with a red, white, and blue shield slung across his back, appearing to be in his early twenties. The other had been in a red and gold armored suit, far beyond technology she had known existed. And the third had been her target, Director Nicholas Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had hit him, but that wouldn't matter to Headmistress unless it was a fatal shot. Was she the in the Red Room? Was she still in New York? She didn't have a clue, and it was bothering her.

Minutes passed. She didn't bother count how many. It didn't matter if she didn't know what time it was. There wasn't even sunlight to judge the passing of time.

 _Thud._ She looked across the cell. A section of the wall was fading away. She stood back, sliding into a fighting stance as two people stepped into the room. One was short, with curly brown hair and glasses, and the other was tall and had a metal arm. A metal arm she knew very well.

She immediately slid into attention, her posture perfect and stiff. "Soldier," she said.

" _Natalia?"_ the Winter Soldier said in disbelief. She fought to stay expressionless. He sounded different. He sounded American. And he looked different. His hair was shorter and he was tan. His metal arm no longer had the red star on it. Instead there was a shield logo. It looked like the shield the man in the hangar had had.

"What? Do you know her? What did she say?" the second man asked. He was a little younger than the Soldier, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and spoke in English.

"She understands you. She called me Soldier," he said flatly. She didn't move a muscle. He had trained her well, and she wanted to show him that she remembered, that she had fulfilled his prediction that she would be the best Widow. Even if he had not been there to see it.

"That's not good, is it?" the teen asked nervously.

The Soldier stared at her levelly. "This man is going to give you an examination. You will comply."

"Yes, Soldier," she said.

"Use English. My friend does not speak Russian." The Soldier looked weary. She relaxed her posture, sensing that something had changed.

"I thought you did not have friends."

"A lot can change in a year, Natasha."

* * *

"You want to ask a question," the Soldier said, catching her staring yet again. "Ask already."

"What is happening?"

It was a simple question, but it covered everything. The Soldier and his friend, who he called Bruce, had brought her to a medical room. Bruce had then examined her thoroughly, taking blood samples and fingerprints and other things. This should not have been unusual. She had often been examined with a superior officer in attendance, usually Headmistress. But this was different. Bruce seemed jittery, unlike the usual apathetic doctors who examined her, and the Soldier was different. He was slouched in a chair wearing a blue sweater and jeans. She'd never seen him so casual. And Bruce called him "Bucky." She'd never heard the name before.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "I can't explain."

"Who can, then?" she demanded. Normally she wouldn't be so bold, but something was off. She didn't have proof yet, but she could feel it, and her instincts were good. Honed by the Winter Soldier himself.

"I can," a man said, entering the room and sitting across from her. "Though my presence probably answers a lot of your questions, Black Widow."

"I shot you!" she snarled, lunging forward. The Soldier pressed a button and restraints wrapped around her arms and pinned her to the medical bed. She struggled, but there was no point.

"You should have aimed for the head," Nick Fury stated, steepling his hands. "Your name is Natalia Romanoff?"

She didn't say anything. The Soldier looked at her. "Answer him, Natasha."

She bared her teeth at him. "I don't take orders from traitors."

"I'm not giving orders. I'm giving advice. You used to trust me. Trust me now."

"You _left me!"_ she snapped. He flinched, his brown eyes big and sad. She reveled in his pain.

"I didn't want to," he whispered. "Please, Natasha, believe me, and trust me. I can explain everything later, but right now you need to answer his questions."

She stared at him with hate-filled eyes. She remembered the first day he came to the Red Room. She remembered the first day she impressed him in combat. The first time they had talked, as freely as she'd ever been able to in that hellhole. And she remembered the day Headmistress announced that the Winter Soldier would no longer be teaching them. She never got to say goodbye, and she was never given a reason for his disappearance. And now here he was, nearly two years later, consorting with S.H.I.E.L.D.

And yet, she still did trust him. She knew she shouldn't have, but there was something about him that had been so different from everyone else in the Red Room that she had been drawn to him. She would have laid down her life for his a year ago. She still would.

"My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," she said, meeting the Director's eyes.

"And how do you know Agent Barnes here?" he asked her, looking unfazed by her sudden cooperativeness.

"I knew him as the Winter Soldier. He trained me to be a Black Widow."

* * *

"What's going to happen to me?" she asked quietly.

She'd been in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody for three days according to the Soldier, whose name was apparently Bucky Barnes. When she'd expressed her distaste for the name, he'd said she could call him James. He visited her at least once a day. He was the one to bring her meals and fresh clothes. He said they thought she would be least likely to attack him. They weren't wrong.

"They want to put you in a top secret program," he said. They were sitting on the floor of her cell facing each other. He had his legs spread out, but she was curled into a little ball. They spoke Russian to each other, except now he had an American accent. He didn't used to have that.

"You mean a prison?"

He shook his head. "No. Not exactly. I'm not allowed to tell you the details, but you'd be treated well. Really well, Natasha. You're young. They want to give you another chance. All you've known is that hellhole, but there is so much more. So much more that Headmistress and the others don't want you to know about, because with your skills, you could bring them and the whole world to its knees. You could do so much good."

"You don't have to lie to me, James. I know what happens when an enemy spy is caught. Especially one who tried to assassinate the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I'm serious, Natasha. They want to give you a clean slate."

She shook her red curls out of her face. "Then why am I stuck in this cell if they want to help me so badly? I only ever see you."

He sighed. "They don't trust you. You're dangerous, and your allegiance is still to the Red Room."

"What about you? They seem to trust you."

"My situation was different. And even then, I wasn't trusted over night. I had to save a few people's lives and rat out as many HYDRA pricks as I could remember."

Natasha wasn't quite sure what James meant. He had been dropping hints that something about his service to HYDRA and the Red Room had been involuntary, but in her own recollections he had been the perfect, loyal soldier. There must be a larger story behind him, but he hadn't been forthcoming.

"I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D.," she whispered.

"I understand," he assured her, and she could tell that he did. "But do you trust the Red Room either? Did you feel safe there? Do you honestly want to go back, or do you just have nowhere else to go?"

She frowned and squeezed her legs tighter to her body. She was uncomfortable. She'd never questioned the Red Room before, never had reason to. But now a whole different path was opening up in front of her and she wanted to see where it would go. James seemed happy here, from the little tidbits she'd seen. He trusted S.H.I.E.L.D. She couldn't remember anyone smiling in the Red Room. Girls had been beaten for it, and then they'd forgotten how as they grew older. And as she thought about it, she realized she didn't want that.

"I don't want to go back," she admitted quietly. "I hate it there."

"Then I'll make sure you never do."

* * *

"Congratulations, Ms. Romanoff," Coulson said entering her cell with James behind him. "You are going to be the newest member of the Avengers Initiative."

She tilted her head. James added, "That means you're off the hook. Sort of."

"I don't understand. What's happening?" she asked.

"The Avengers Initiative takes children like yourself who are too dangerous to leave in the world, and puts them in a secure location. You won't be able to leave the Avengers Facility, but you will mostly be left alone. It's not a prison. You'll be cared for and safe."

"The Red Room will come for me."

James walked forward and kneeled in front of her. "I promise they won't be able to find you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been in the Facility for two years and they haven't found me. And even if they did, we'd protect you."

"When am I going to be taken there?" she asked, looking Agent Coulson in the eyes.

"Ms. Romanoff, you've been in the Facility the entire time," he said with a faint smile. "Why don't you give her the tour, Bucky?"

The wall disappeared, and this time Natasha could tell that she was allowed to go through it. She couldn't believe this. She'd come here to assassinate someone, and now she was being offered a home. It wasn't exactly freedom, but she had never expected that. She had been a slave to the Red Room. She'd always known that, but she had never had another option. But if James could get out, then she was determined to escape also.

"Let's go," James said with a cocky grin. Natasha followed him out and into a hallway, but this time it wasn't the plain walkway they'd led her through to the lab, it was a modern, fancy hallway. It looked like they were in a mansion. She drifted over to the window. They were still in New York. She could see the hangar where she shot Fury. But that meant…

"I get to live in a mansion?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

He laughed. "I was surprised too, given our backgrounds. But, yeah, you live here now. You'll get your own room and everything. God, I have a ton to show you. There's a pool, training rooms, game rooms, home theaters, everything you could think of. There are nine Avengers total, including us. Coulson stays here a lot, and so do Peggy and Pepper. You'll have to meet them another day. But yeah, everything you see, the mansion, the hangar, the lawns, all ours. We just can't go outside the fence without permission. It's a pretty good deal."

"Coulson said this is a program for dangerous children," she said, doubts growing in her mind. "How dangerous?"

"Wanna go meet them?"


	18. Chapter 18 (Interlude)

"No, Steve, no, stop!" Peter cried, his shrieks of delight splitting the air as the super-soldier relentlessly tickled him. "Stop, stop!"

Tony, Bucky, and Peggy were sitting on the other side of the couch, barely concealing their grins as they watched the two of them. Peter had burrowed into the couch and Steve was trying to dig him out, but he was being thwarted by the abundance of pillows and blankets that always accumulated on the couch. It was a common trend for the younger Avengers to make pillow forts and hold movie nights on the couch.

"Come here!" Steve growled playfully. Peter thrashed, digging in even deeper.

Natasha watched them quietly. No one was paying her much mind. They never bothered her, except when they noticed that she hadn't eaten or if she looked sad. That seemed to be the Avengers policy: personal space, unless something is wrong. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She had never had people who genuinely cared for her and were looking out for her before. It was different, but she didn't think that was a bad thing. She liked it, feeling safe, making decisions for herself, and not living in terror. She had been scared, she realized now. In the red Room. All the girls had been, but they hadn't realized it because it was all they knew.

"Penny for your thoughts," a voice said in her ear.

She whipped her head around, then frowned as she saw that it was only Clint. James had given her a brief rundown of every Avenger. She knew Clint had only arrived at the Facility a couple months before herself, and that like her, he didn't have any superpowers, but he'd been a sniper. She never would have guessed that he was dangerous. He had a happy-go-lucky attitude and an ever-present roguish grin on his slightly chubby face. He was thirteen, just a year older than herself, but he was ripped. Not quite super-soldier ripped, but disproportionately muscled for his age. She'd seen Tony, who was very strong, struggle to pull the string on Clint's bow.

She didn't like how easily he'd snuck up on her, though. She used to be impossible to surprise, but with how often she was getting lost in her thoughts and lowering her guard that had changed.

When she didn't say anything, Clint said, "I bet I can guess what you were thinking."

"Is that right?" she asked, almost like a dare. Where had that come from? Something about his grin made her want to wipe it off his face. She usually had better control over herself than this, though.

"Yeah. I think I understand you, Natasha Romanoff."

She snorted. "I doubt it."

"Let me try. You were looking at them," he pointed at Steve, Tony, James, Peggy, and Peter, laughing and chatting loudly with each other, "and you were thinking that they look like something out of a movie. That real people aren't like this, that it must be some mistake that you're here. That everything is too good. That one day they're going to realize it was a mistake that you're here, and they're going to kick you out. And that thought scares you. You don't want to go. You want to stay here, and you have never wanted anything like that before."

Natasha closed the book she was reading, staring at Clint. She wanted to deny him, say that he was wrong, but that would be a lie that even she couldn't pull off. She had never felt so transparent as she did with his pale blue eyes boring into her. He abruptly flopped onto the seat next to her and grabbed a video game controller.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just saying that I do understand, and you're new here too, and I thought you might like to have a friend."

He started playing some first person shooter game, and he was just as good at that at he was with real weapons. She curled into the corner of the couch, careful not to touch him, but she didn't move. He didn't pay her any mind, so she returned to her book. It was kind of nice, in a way, to just sit in companionable silence. She caught James and his partner, Steve, looking at them a lot, but not in judgement. If anything, they looked relieved.

She glared at James when she caught him staring for the fifth time. He laughed and turned away.

* * *

"What's wrong with Peter?" Natasha whispered to Clint as they quietly ate their breakfast. When they'd come out for breakfast they'd found everyone in near silence. Peter was sitting in front of the large window, seemingly unaware of the world around him, staring at the pouring rain Tony was crouched next to him, murmuring softly, but Peter had yet to respond.

"Don't know. And he can hear you," Clint whispered back. She frowned. Super-hearing. It was weird living with people who could hear you halfway across the mansion.

"No he can't," Wanda said, a red tint to her eyes. "He's not even here right now."

"What does that even mean?" Clint demanded, putting down his fork as if her statement had personally offended him. Natasha had noticed that the archer tended to have little patience for super-powers and magic, especially when stuff got even weirder than usual.

"It's almost like he's dreaming. I can't exactly tell what it is. All he sees is rain, but I don't think it's the same rain that we're looking at." Pietro touched his sister's arm and she blinked, her eyes back to normal. She smiled at him.

"You're a mind reader?" Natasha asked in surprise.

She grimaced. "Yes. I don't usually do it without permission. I was just worried about Peter. I couldn't even get to him. I haven't been in your head, I promise, Natasha."

The spy nodded. She could tell Wanda wasn't lying, even if the thought of someone being able to enter her mind was disturbing. But from the few weeks that she'd known the girl, she did like Wanda, and her twin. They had been nothing but nice to her, just like everyone. Well, except Tony. He hadn't said much to her at all, but she'd caught him watching her warily.

"Quick question," Nat whispered to Clint. "Does Stark not like me?"

"Tony doesn't like anyone he just meet. He also just doesn't like most people," the archer replied. Wanda and Pietro nodded in agreement. She noticed the other fifteen year old, Bruce, pretending not to listen to their conversation from a bit farther down the table. He had a scientific journal open, but she didn't think he was reading a word of it. "A lot of people betrayed Tony in his life. He has trust issues. Most of us do."

Everyone's eyes slid back to Peter. He was still deaf to the world. No one knew what to do. Coulson, Peggy, Steve, and Bucky were all away for a meeting at the Triskelion, and one of them would typically tell them what to do. They were the adults in charge, and Tony had seniority next, but he was focused on Peter.

"If you guys are done eating, you need to get to tutoring," Bruce said after a minute of silence, only the gentle patter of rain in the background. "Peter will be fine."

"You sure? Pietro asked doubtfully.

Bruce's brow scrunched, but then he smoothed out his expression and said, "Go to tutoring."

They all set down their utensils and left the room, keeping quiet. It wasn't unusual for an Avenger to have a nightmare or experience some form of PTSD, but it was scary seeing Peter, their baby, their ray of sunshine, so messed-up.

"We're all a little broken," Clint mumbled in Natasha's ear before heading off to meet his tutor.

* * *

"Oh, hi, Bruce," Pepper said, smiling at the scientist and hanging up her raincoat. She shook her hair out and water droplets splattered around her. "Sorry, the roads were backed up because of the rain. Did I miss breakfast?"

"Pepper, something's wrong with Peter," he said, brow wrinkled with worry, and she froze. "We don't know what's wrong, he's upstairs with Tony and—"

She didn't give him a chance to finish. She strode past him and half-ran up the stairs. Her only thoughts were getting to Peter and comforting him. She emerged in the living room and saw her boys instantly. Peter was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring straight ahead, Tony crouched next to him. She strode over, pulse going down as she saw that he wasn't injured.

Tony looked up when she placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked so lost and sad as he stood up and let her wrap his arms around him. He squeezed her for a minute. She let him, because she could tell he was having a tough morning, but she was growing concerned again as Peter didn't even notice her. He always hugged her whenever she got back from school.

"I don't think he can hear us," Tony told her softly. "I woke up this morning and he wasn't in bed. I flipped, because I found his bracelet crushed." The bracelet that monitored Peter's vitals and tracked him. No wonder Tony had worried. "I found him like this. He hasn't moved or said anything. He just keeps staring at the rain."

"What should we do? Should we call Steve, or Peggy, or Coulson?" she asked, biting her lip.

"No, they're at the Triskelion, we need to take care of this ourselves. I just...I don't know what to do." She could see how crazy it was driving him that he was helpless. Pepper kissed his head then knelt next to Peter.

"Don't touch him," Tony warned. "It might scare him and he could break us in half."

She nodded, then shot him a look warning against further talking. She had to admit, it would be handy to have a super-soldier right about now. He took the hint and knelt next to her.

"Peter, sweetie," she said softly. He didn't respond. "What's going on, honey? Can you hear me? What are you doing?"

Tony followed her lead. "What do you see, buddy?"

"It's raining," the boy said dreamily and Tony grabbed Pepper's leg in excitement.

"Good. What else, buddy? Tell me what you see."

Peter's eyes were unfocused. "Its raining. The yard is starting to flood and the street looks like a river. My stuff is in the garage, but I don't want it to get all wet."

"Good," Tony breathed out. "What else? Keep talking."

"There is so much rain coming down," Peter continued. She knew he wasn't talking about the drizzle outside. Her face fell as she realized what Peter was reliving. It had been raining the day Peter's family was killed. "That's why I noticed the men. No one else was out. They didn't even have umbrellas. My skin started crawling when they walked through the gate. I froze when they got to the door. Then I heard Uncle Ben, and a gunshot."

Pepper's eyes filled with tears as Peter started talking in the past tense, as if he were reciting something that happened to someone else.

"Tell me what happened," Tony urged.

"I heard shouting. It was so windy none of the neighbors could hear."

"No, later. Who was there?"

"There were the men, and then Tony came—" Peter broke off and blinked his innocent brown eyes. He looked over at Tony and Pepper with a heartbroken expression. "Tony?"

"You're at the Facility, buddy," Tony said soothingly. "You're safe."

Peter's small frame trembled for a second, and then he sobbed and fell into Pepper and Tony. Tony pulled the boy onto his lap and held him, closing his eyes as he clutched Peter. Pepper stroked Peter's hair and made soothing noises.

"You're okay," Tony whispered breathlessly. "You're okay."

"We should get him to bed," Pepper murmured. Tony nodded and easily picked Peter up. The boy was still crying, tucking his face into Tony's shoulder. Pepper pulled open the door to their room to let Tony through and shut the door behind him. Tony dropped Peter onto the large bed. Pepper climbed onto the other side of the bed, trapping Peter between the two of them. He curled into them, his tears slowing down.

"I miss them," Peter whispered.

Tony kissed his head. "I know. I know, kid."


	19. Chapter 19

"Ow!" Wanda cried as Pietro succeeded in getting past her guard again.

"Focus," Steve reminded her in the cool voice he always adopted when he was teaching. "You're used to relying on your powers. In most fights you'll have them at your disposal, but in case something happens, you need to be able to defend yourself without them."

Wanda took a deep breath. "I know, I know. Let's try again."

Pietro grimaced. "I'll hit softer."

"No you won't," Steve corrected. "We can patch you both up later, but it's no good practicing at half-power. Just focus on getting past each other's guards."

Steve and Bucky, who were in charge of their training, had decided recently that since they had a grasp on their powers, it was time to learn self-defense. The twins had scoffed at first. Pietro was all but invisible to the naked eye, and Wanda could make force fields, so it seemed silly to think that they needed to learn self-defense, but that hadn't stopped Steve from beginning their training. At which point the super-soldier had been horrified to learn that they hadn't even been taught the mere basics of self-defense.

Which was how they had lent up facing off from each other in the ring. They watched each other carefully as they raised their guards, and for both it was a struggle not to use their powers. Wanda couldn't peek into her brother's mind to see what his next move would be, and Pietro couldn't use his speed to surprise his sister.

Wanda sent the first punch, hoping to surprise him, but he saw it a mile away and blocked. They traded a few sloppy blows, their inexperience shining through. Steve watched them with a neutral expression, his arms crossed. Wanda made a desperate lunge and ended up socking Pietro square in the jaw.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" she cried, reaching out as if to help him but unsure of what to do.

"Are you alright, son?" Steve asked.

Pietro worked his jaw and shook his head. "Damn, sis, I didn't think you'd hit that hard." Her shoulders slumped in relief at the silly comment.

"I thought you'd dodge," she explained.

"I'm fine," he added, waving off Steve. The super-soldier nodded and stepped back.

"Okay, enough of that for today. You're free to do whatever til dinner."

"I'm going to go eat a tub of ice cream, and use it as an ice pack," Pietro declared, touching his jaw and wincing. He grinned at his sister's guilty expression. "Don't worry, it'll be gone by tomorrow. You should work on flying, you're starting to get the hang of it."

She nodded. He kissed her cheek and ran off. She knew it drove him insane to walk anywhere, so she never complained about his habit of abusing his powers a bit.

She wandered over to where Steve was wrapping bandages around his hands, preparing to train with Bucky. The two of them were in the training room more than anyone, often two or three times a day, and more than one Avenger had thought they were actually fighting when they saw them train. They both got so intense, which was why she was a bit timid approaching him in the training room, when she normally could walk right up to him.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. "Wanda. Something wrong?" He stood and rolled his large shoulders. She had trouble believing he was only eighteen, even though she knew the serum had made him that large.

"Sort of," she admitted, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"What is it?" She could sense the alarms going off in his head as his protective dad mode, as the younger Avengers had started to call it, kicked in.

"Nothing bad," she assured him. "I was just wondering if, maybe, Pietro and I should train with Clint and Natasha instead of each other."

"Oh." He finished tying off his hand wraps. "I did consider that. I know it's not easy to fight each other. Anyone could tell how close you are to each other. But, unfortunately, Clint and Natasha are far, far ahead of you and your brother in self-defense training. It just wouldn't work. I'd even use Peter, but he's still working on controlling his strength. So, for now, you and Pietro are going to have to fight each other. But, if it's really problematic, we can find another solution, maybe call in someone from S.H.I.E.L.D." He grinned at her. "But I know you don't want that."

"I don't." She trusted Steve and Bucky, and even Tony, just barely. She did not trust S.H.I.E.L.D. The huge organization reminded her too much of working for HYDRA. The similarities were there for anyone who knew where to look, but all those S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would deny it up and down.

"I know. I understand. I don't exactly enjoy fighting Bucky, but it's what we have to do to get better."

"I hear you, punk," the Winter Soldier called over and a smile lit up instantly on Steve's face. Wanda was always amazed at how easily the two of them could make each other smile. Sometimes just the sound of their voice was enough, even on their worst days.

"Okay. Thanks, Steve. I think I'm going to try flying again, so get ready to call Bruce," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Still trying to mimic Tony's repulsors?" he asked. She nodded with a look both determined and exasperated on her face. "Good luck. And stay away from the metal beams if you can avoid it."

"I'll try," she promised. Steve smiled and hopped into the ring. Bucky began swinging at him before he was fully in, and thus their violent dance began. Wanda watched them for a minute, realized she was stalling, and then headed over to the thick mat area. If she fell again, she wanted it to be on something soft. Softer than the ground at least.

"Here goes nothing," she mumbled to herself, spreading her hands on either side of her and sending out a blast of red energy.

* * *

"Why do you use a bow and arrow?" Natasha asked, perched atop the rock connected to Clint's armory. He was standing on the grass below her, shooting at targets that seemed ridiculously far away, but he never missed.

"What do you mean?" he asked, shooting two arrows at once. Both were bullseyes. She'd thought she was the best shot in the world till she met him.

"I mean, why bow and arrow? No one uses those anymore, except for fun and hunting. Why not use a gun, or whatever weird weapons Stark keeps in his garage?" she asked, tucking her red hair behind her ear.

"Guns are easy. Anyone can pull a trigger and hit a target. Bows are more elegant."

"So you use a weapon from the Middle Ages for the aesthetic?"

He grinned. "No, I use it because I'm good at it, and I hate guns."

The two newest Avengers had started spending a lot of time together. Natasha felt uncomfortable with the others, so Clint liked to drag her out to his range. It was good for both of them. He could get some fresh air and do what he liked to do best, and she could have a space where there was no pressure to talk about herself. Everyone wanted to get to know her, but he could tell she hated the attention. That, and she didn't know the answer to a lot of their questions. She didn't have a favorite color or movie or anything. She hadn't been allowed to. Natasha had told him that in little bursts of openness, which was how he'd discovered her dry sense of humor.

"Didn't S.H.I.E.L.D. catch you because you were a sniper? Why do you hate guns?" she asked, puzzled, but he knew that was just a facade to get him to spill his guts. He knew it was just her spy habits kicking in, but he'd rather her actually be interested in him than just trying to gather information.

"You're doing your spy thing again, Nat, I'm not stupid," he told her, shooting another arrow.

"I didn't mean to," she said softly.

He shrugged, but answered anyways. "I hate guns because my father always kept one with him wherever he went. He shot at me and my brother more than once."

"You have a brother?" She didn't bother hide her surprise.

"Yeah. I haven't seen him in two years."

"Your family is still alive?"

He frowned. His next shot was slightly off. "As far as I know. I haven't heard about them since I left."

"I just thought everyone here was an orphan. Do your parents know you're here?"

"Maybe. I didn't ask," Clint said flatly. "Bruce has parents, too. Bucky has his parents and a lot of siblings from what I hear. Neither of their families know they're alive. What about you? Do you have a family?"

"I don't know. I was taken from my parents when I was two. I don't have any memories of them. I don't know who they were, or if I had siblings, or anything."

"Well, now we have each other, which sounds cheesy." He was smiling nonetheless.

She grinned back. "Very cheesy."

* * *

"You've been to LA?" Peter asked in astonishment.

Clint laughed. "I've been all over the states. Traveling circus and all that. It's overrated. I like staying in one place much better."

Natasha nodded in agreement.

"What was it like?"

"Dirty, smoggy. I got pick pocketed twice in the weekend we were there."

Peter shook his head, "I would do anything to go to LA. I've never even been out of New York."

"Like Legolas said, overrated," Tony chimed in, reading some ridiculously thick science textbook with his head in Pepper's lap. He was working with his tutor on his second doctorate. "LA is dirty and crowded and full of wannabe pop stars."

"Don't you have a mansion in LA?" Steve asked, looking over at the genius.

"Yep, and I plan on personally burning it to the ground as soon as I turn eighteen." Pepper made a face and stroked Tony's hair. Steve nodded in understanding.

Peter frowned. "Why?"

The room stilled. Tony sat up, closing his book. "Just a crappy childhood there."

Clint frowned. "Does Peter not know?" Natasha kicked his ankle and Steve said his name in warning. The archer's eyes went wide as he realized his mistake.

"Not know what?" Peter demanded, looking at Tony. The genius couldn't seem to meet his eyes. "Tony? What's Clint talking about?"

The living room was deathly silent. Outside, the sun was setting and bathing the room in red light. Natasha grabbed Clint's hand and pulled him down the hall, sensing that they would only make the situation worse if they stayed. Peter stared at Tony with hurt eyes.

"It's nothing, kid," Tony said, trying and failing to give him a cocky grin. "Bad childhood, just like I said."

"Then what did Clint mean?"

Steve and Pepper traded worried glances. Tony repeated, "Nothing. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Drop it, kid."

"But-"

"I don't want to talk about this," Tony said, dropping his head into his hands. Pepper looked like she wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure if he wanted to be touched.

A tense silence filled the room, Peter looking down in shame. Suddenly, Tony got up and started stumbling away.

"I'm going to my garage," he announced blankly.

"It's not your fault, sweetie," Pepper said, pulling Peter onto her lap as Tony's head disappeared downstairs. He clung to her, tears in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to upset him," he sniffled.

"You didn't know," Steve assured the boy.

"I don't know what I did." He was nearly inaudible because of his gentle sobs. He was already calming down as Pepper stroked his hair soothingly.

"Tony went through some very, very traumatic things before he became an Avenger. Talking about LA brings up those bad memories. You didn't know, but he can't talk about it. He used to be so angry, but know he's just scared of his past."

"What happened to him?" Peter asked, wiping his eyes.

Steve frowned. "It's not really our place to say, son. Tony wants to tell you himself when you're older. Until both of you are ready, it's probably for the best that you don't bring this up again, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Okay. Is Tony mad at me?"

"No. Of course not," Pepper assured him. "He just needs a little alone time."

* * *

"Peter?"

The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes. He'd been asleep in the big king size bed, Pepper still fast asleep beside him. The door cracked open, spilling in moonlight and the shadow of Tony Stark.

"What's going on?" the boy whispered, yawning.

"Shh," the genius said, putting a finger to his lips. He motioned for Peter to join him outside.

The boy slid out of bed and padded outside. Pepper didn't stir, far too used to finding her bed empty when she woke up.

Peter looked at Tony as he shut the door. He'd rarely seen the genius looking this distraught and exhausted. His eyes were red rimmed and there were dark bags under his eyes. His clothes were stained and torn.

"I'm sorry," Peter murmured, looking down and tears threatening to fall.

"What? Kid, no, don't be. That's- that's not what this is about," Tony said, raking a hand through his hair and disheveling it even further. "I-I want to tell you some things. About myself. I should have told you all this a while ago, but I didn't, so I'm doing it now. Or I'm going to try. Be patient with me. I don't really do this talking about my past thing."

Peter opened his mouth, closed it, then settled on saying, "I'm confused."

Tony let out a strangled chuckle. "Yeah, that's fair. Let's go to the garage."

They started walking. Peter was familiar with this part. Tony often brought him down to the garage when he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. He slipped his hand into Tony's as they walked, and he saw the genius grin. It put him at ease.

The garage was dark, only the perimeter lights and Tony's security fed casting light on the enormous space. Tony led Peter over to an empty area near the wall of Iron Man suits.

"I don't really know what I told you, so I'm just going to talk, okay? Okay," he said, sucking in a breath. "My dad was a tech giant, CEO of Stark Industries and multi-billionaire. My mom was a model and owned a fashion line. I was famous before I was even born. Then by the time I was four I was featured on 60 Minutes for being a child prodigy. I didn't have a normal childhood.

"I didn't see my parents a lot, and when I did...it wasn't good. My father was a drunk, a mean one, and my mother never protected me from him. The only adult I trusted in my life was Jarvis."

"Like your A.I.?" Peter asked. He'd always been curious why Tony had picked that acronym, but he'd always forgotten to ask.

"Exactly. Jarvis and Pepper were all I had. I was a child, and not knowing better, I made weapons for my father. Bad weapons, the type of stuff terrorist use, but I didn't know that, I didn't understand. That's why Wanda and Pietro blamed me for killing their parents. I did, in a way. I looked it up. I did design the bomb that dropped on their apartment. I was in Afghanistan when it dropped, but I still made it."

"Steve told me that part. That you were held in Afghanistan," Peter admitted quietly. He didn't know a lot, but he could tell that relieved Tony.

"Oh. Okay, good. I don't really want to talk about that anyways." He sighed. "But I do want you to know that my father let me rot in that cave. He didn't come to save me, he even hid the circumstances of my kidnapping from S.H.I.E.L.D. So that's why I don't talk about him. Because I hate him, Peter. But he was dead when I got back. My mom and him died in a car crash. And Jarvis was the driver. He was gone too."

"I didn't know."

Tony smiled and placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I know. I didn't tell you. I hate L.A. because almost all the worst moments of my life happened there, but you didn't know that. And then I freaked on you earlier, and that wasn't fair. So I'm sorry."

"Its okay," Peter said instantly.

The genius chuckled. "You're too nice, kid. You apologize for doing nothing and forgive in a second."

He shrugged. "It's just how I am."

"I know." Tony walked over to his screens abruptly and said, "J, send up 17A."

"Might I suggest you get some sleep, sir? It is three in the morning," the A.I replied. Despite his gentle reminder, the floor next to Peter's feet split open, revealing a deep, dark underground vault.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Woah, what is that?" he yelped in surprise, backing up. A platform was rising from the depths of the pit with some sort of crate on it.

"You know all those suits I make? I store some of 'em down here. Just in case," Tony explained.

That was an understatement. Peter guessed that there had to be at least a hundred suits down there if even his enhanced eyesight couldn't penetrate the depths. He had noticed that a few of the suits he'd assisted in creating weren't on the wall of Iron Man suits on display, but he never would have guessed that there were more than perhaps twenty stored away.

Tony walked forward and set the case up. It was about the size of a large suitcase, and Peter couldn't help but drift forward curiously. Tony grinned at him.

"For you." With that, the case swung open, revealing a red suit with big, white eyes, a spider on the chest, and Web-shooters. Really, really high-tech looking Web-Shooters, not the quick prototype he and Tony had made over a year ago.

Peter gaped at the suit then looked at Tony. The billionaire was smiling, leaning against a worktable and watching Peter. "What is this?"

"Your suit."

"My suit?" Peter repeated.

"Well, your suit once you're cleared for missions," Tony amended. "I make them for everybody. I might have spent a little more time adding some fun features to yours though. I'm actually incorporating some of the tech in your suit to work in mine I like it so much."

Peter raked a hand through his curls, a habit from Tony, and laughed hysterically. "This is insane. It's so cool. Pepper is going to kill you. I love it so much!"

Tony chuckled. "I'm just showing you this today. I still need to work out a few kinks, and you need to hit the double-digits at least to wear that. I got a little ambitious with the tech. It's about five to ten years ahead of the current technology."

"So cool," he breathed out. "Can I at least try it on? Please?"

"No, no way. Then Pepper will _actually_ kill me."

"We don't have to tell her."

"She'll find out. She always does. I suspect that J.A.R.V.I.S. is a snitch."

Peter pouted. "No fun."

"I know. But I am showing you this for a reason," Tony said, turning serious. "Most of us are going on more and more missions lately, especially Steve and I, which I know you hate. I hate leaving you too, but it's just how things are right now. But since Natasha managed to sneak in here I've realized that my security isn't as foolproof as I thought it was. So I'm giving you the access code to this suit, and I'm trusting that you are not going to abuse it. Only if you are in imminent mortal peril are you allowed to get in the suit. Understood?"

Peter nodded vigorously. "Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent."

"I mean it," he said sternly.

"I understand. Seriously, Tony, I will not put on the suit unless its an emergency."

He shrugged. "Just had to be sure."

* * *

"Still no updates on that 084?" Steve asked, sipping from his mug of coffee.

Bruce shook his head, then pushed up his glasses. "No. Not a thing. I heard that Fury even pulled some people away from the project."

"Really?" Bucky asked with a skeptical expression.

"Yeah. I mean, there's been absolutely no action at the crash site since the 084 landed, so its not practical to keep so many high level agents there."

The four oldest Avengers had gathered in Tony's garage in the early morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Steve, Bucky, and Bruce were sitting on couches and chairs, two pots of coffee on the table between them. Tony, who Steve was fairly certain had drunk an entire pot of coffee himself recently, was already working on an Iron Man suit. It looked larger than his regular model, with a larger chest and shoulder plates. Probably to store explosives. It was a miracle the Facility hadn't been blown up yet with the amount of C-4 in the garage.

"I don't understand what the big deal was about New Mexico," Tony chipped in, smearing grease on his face as he wiped away sweat. "Didn't it just turn out to be a hammer?"

"Yeah, a hammer that fell out of an black hole over the New Mexico desert that no one has been able to move since. That, and it's covered in alien markings that experts guarantee are not of Earthly origin," Bruce explained.

Tony blinked. "So a hammer that can't even be used? Why'd you bother guard it in the first place? I could have told Fury that was a waste of resources."

Steve sighed. He didn't know why he agreed to meet this early in the morning. He had trouble dealing with Tony when he was well rested and sufficiently caffeinated. This had been a terrible idea. Bucky, as if sensing his thoughts, or just knowing him well enough to guess, rested his hand on his knee comfortably.

"We actually did have a reason for meeting down here, or did you all forget?" Bucky interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Fury wants to clear more of the kids for missions."

They all sobered up. As the four oldest, and in general, longest-serving Avengers, Fury always approached them about the training and fitness of the younger Avengers. A job they all took very seriously. As eager as some of the kids might be to get in some field work and escape the Facility for a day or two, the older Avengers wanted to make sure that they were well trained and properly equipped before going on missions.

"Peter's not ready," Tony said instantly, glaring fiercely at all of them as if they were going to dispute him.

"Don't worry, none of us want Peter on the field for at least three more years," Steve assured him, and Bucky and Bruce nodded in agreement. "Anyways, Fury knows Peter is off-limits. He wants to know if the twins, Clint, and/or Natasha are ready for field work."

"Natasha is," Bucky said instantly.

Bruce looked at him in mild alarm. "I know you two have a history, but we do need to consider if field work would be the best option for her. I mean, she's only been here a month. She probably needs time to adjust, and to get used to the idea of working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Yeah, and I want to make sure she won't shoot us all in the back before we hand her any weapons," Tony added.

"She wouldn't do that," Bucky said quietly, in a way that made Steve's hair stand on end.

"We don't know that. In fact, we barely know anything about her, except that she's a Russian assassin and spy. We met her because she was trying to assassinate Nick Fury, for God's sake! I don't trust her."

Bruce cocked his head at the genius. "I thought you liked her."

"Oh, I like her. She's scary and could kick my ass. What's not to like? But she was trained to fool people like us. I, for one, am not convinced that her quick conversion to the light side is sincere."

"You don't know what the Red Room is like," Bucky retorted. "Then you'd believe her."

"Then how about you enlighten me, Barnes? You haven't exactly been forthcoming about your sordid past," Tony snapped right back.

Steve set his cup down loudly, cutting through the tension. "Enough. We're not talking about this. Regardless of how well trained Natasha is, she has only been here a month. That's not long enough to learn how to properly function within a S.H.I.E.L.D. team. I think it would be best if she stayed here for a while. We can reconsider making her an active agent in a few months."

Bucky looked mildly upset, but he nodded in acquiescence to Steve's proposal. Bruce looked relieved that the fighting was over, and Tony looked sullen, but that was hardly a surprise, so Steve decided to move on.

"Okay, next person: what about Clint?"

Bucky frowned in consideration. "Since we mentioned it for Natasha, we have to mention it for him. We meet Clint because he _actually_ killed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, not just tried. That said, he was being manipulated by one prick of a human being, so I would let it slide. He's passed all the necessary training for fieldwork. So I guess I would vote yes."

Bruce frowned. "I don't know. He hasn't been here very long either. I don't want to be tossing him out cold."

"He's not cold, and he's a damn good shot, which I am never going to admit again," Tony stated, dissembling the leg of his suit. The armor fell onto the floor and clanged loudly. "I'd clear him. He follows orders, too, which is more than I can say I did at fourteen."

"You still don't," the scientist pointed out, but Tony grinned like that was a compliment.

"Steve? Your call," Bucky said.

The super-soldier sighed. The calls usually did come down to him. They'd all agreed that his vote weighed more than the others, by virtue of being the team leader. He wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but otherwise they would end up with ties. His only consolation was that Coulson was technically the one with the final say, even if the Agent had never gone against Cap's recommendation.

"I'm clearing Clint. But only for sniper-work and back-up," Steve decided.

Tony frowned at him. "That's unusually specific."

"I've started training him and Natasha together, just to see if they could be sparring partners, but I noticed that they work unusually well together, especially considering they haven't known each other very long. Hand-to-hand combat is still Clint's weak spot, but if Natasha is in the field then I'd feel better about his safety. I'll clear him for field work when we clear her."

Bruce and Bucky nodded in agreement. Tony just shrugged and lowered his safety glasses as he toyed with some exposed wires on his suit.

"Okay, and last one: the twins," Bucky said. "I'm voting yes again. They've been training for months and I think Pietro might take a lap around the world if we don't let him do something soon."

Tony shrugged. "Sure. Roadrunner and the little witch have already done operations for HYDRA. We know they can take care of themselves and handle ops."

"I don't have any objections," Bruce added.

Despite the unanimous decision between the three of them, Steve looked torn. "They're not very good at hand to hand combat yet."

Tony groaned loudly. "Cap, _seriously?!_ They beat you up the first time we meet them, remember? I think their powers make up for the lack of physical strength."

"We'll keep training them, Stevie, I swear, but no way is Fury going to let you hold the twins back," Bucky added, brushing his hand against his boyfriend's tense shoulder. "We've already held them back longer than anyone else except Pete."

The super-soldier sighed. "All right. I'll tell Coulson the twins and Clint are ready for active duty."

* * *

"This is so unfair."

"Mm."

"We should both be on this mission."

"Mm."

"Maybe we could go change Steve's mind?"

"Clint," Natasha said, and the archer stopped pacing to turn and look at her. A little grin rested on her face, a habit picked up from Peggy, who rarely rewarded anyone with a full smile. "Let it go. I was expecting this."

Clint huffed, hands on his hip. It was entirely adorable how worked up he was getting on her behalf, but entirely unnecessary. He should have seen this coming. Clint had been excelling in training lately with her help on hand to hand combat, and S.H.I.E.L.D. liked to collect their agents from a young age, often in high school or as soon as they graduated. What S.H.I.E.L.D. did not like was a former Russian spy/assassin in their midst.

"You cannot be okay with this," he retorted.

"I never said I was. I just said that I expected it."

"You're the better fighter. You should be the one going with Cap and Bucky for back-up."

She shook her head. "No. An agent might put it into his mind that the easy solution to having a Russian spy in their midst would be to put a bullet through my brain. That wouldn't end well."

Clint shook his head, blue eyes alight with the fire of injustice. "No way. Steve would never let that happen. We also do our missions with the Howling Commandos, Bucky's old unit. They practically worship the ground Steve walks on. They would never do that to you."

"Doesn't matter, because I'm not going. It's been decided. Maybe in a year or two that will change, but right now, I stay here, you go. So stop whining."

"Why are you so wise? Aren't you like ten?" he teased.

"Thirteen," she retorted, her red curls bouncing as she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Thought you were twelve," he said in confusion.

She shrugged. "I don't know my actual birthday. Every year around September I decide that I'm a year older."

Clint looked at her with renewed horror, something he did every time she mentioned another unusual aspect of her childhood. For some reason, it never bothered her, although she hated when anyone did the same.

"Unacceptable. How can we throw you a birthday party if we don't know your birthday?" he asked.

She burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. She's never seen anyone get so offended over something as simple as a birthday. He started grinning and dropped down next to her on his bed, tossing his bow aside. She shoved at his arm lightly.

"You are utterly ridiculous," she informed him.

"I know. You like it though."

She grinned but otherwise didn't acknowledge his statement. A light rap on the door had them both up and in fighting stances. Then the archer sighed and called, "Come in."

Steve cracked open the door. He wore his blue tactical suit, as he always did before leaving on missions, and she could see his red, white, and blue shield peeking over his broad shoulders. Steve smiled at seeing the two of them together. James had told her that Steve had worried that she wouldn't be able to make friends with anyone because of how standoffish she could be.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" the super soldier asked. Everything about Steve was so perfect and polished. He never raised his voice, he was unceasingly fair, extremely good looking, the perfect soldier, and everyone liked him. It made Natasha suspicious. Human beings were naturally flawed, and the fact that she couldn't find his meant he was suppressing it, hiding something. That didn't sit well with her.

"Not really," Clint said, a bit curtly. Natasha closed her eyes. She needed to teach that boy to lie better. She could tell that Steve had easily picked up on his tone.

"Look, Clint, I know you think I should let Nat go with us on this mission, but I promise that I didn't make this decision lightly. Its for the best right now, and it's only temporary. But right now, I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing. Okay?"

A guilt trip, but a good one. Natasha added that to her list: he was excellent at wielding that tone that made you want to pledge your allegiance and follow him to hell and back. She could tell that small speech had worked on Clint. He stood straighter and met Steve's eyes.

"Okay. Are we leaving now?" he replied, all animosity wiped away from his voice.

"Yep. Grab your stuff. Meet me in the hangar."

* * *

"That's everything," Steve announced, sealing the last weapons compartment securely. Bucky threw him a thumbs up, sitting in the pilot's seat and prepping the Quinjet for takeoff. The super-soldier surveyed the hold one more time then nodded with satisfaction and headed down the ramp. Tony was checking the engine, and he needed an update before they left.

"Steve?" a small voice asked.

He paused on the ramp, turning his head to see Peter standing a bit away from the Quinjet, tugging at his sleeves. Confusion swept through him. He was fairly certain Peter had lessons this morning, or else he would have sought him out at breakfast to say goodbye, like he'd done for everyone else. But he let none of that show on his face as he headed towards the nine year old, who looked undeniably worried.

"Hey, Pete," he greeted cheerfully, even as the boy didn't meet his gaze. "What's up? Are you helping Tony with the engine?"

Peter shuffled his feet and Steve began to grow concerned. What if something was wrong? Fury would kill him if he just ignored the mission, but he would always put the Avengers, his family, before S.H.I.E.L.D., no matter what trouble it might land him in.

"No, um, uh, Tony doesn't need my help," Peter stammered as Steve listened patiently, ignoring the growing uneasiness in his chest. "I, uh, I just came to, uh, I wanted…." He trailed off, clearly frustrated, but before Steve could say anything, Peter launched himself at the super-soldier, wrapping his small, strong arms around Steve's broad shoulders and holding on tight.

He was a bit stunned, but he returned Peter's embrace nonetheless, stroking his soft brown curls. He felt every shuddering breath the boy took, and the desperation in his embrace. It wasn't unusual for Peter to hug him, far from it, but the underlying emotions of this embrace were much stronger than usual. And honestly, Steve was a bit clueless as to what had caused it.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Steve said as Peter finally loosened his grip. "Bucky and Clint, too. I promise."

"Okay," Peter breathed, releasing Steve at least. The super-soldier ruffled his hair one last time, smiling softly.

"Kid, what are you doing here?" Tony's voice interrupted as he walked around the Quinjet, a wrench still in hand. "You have a math lesson right now."

Peter blushed, having been caught. "I, uh, I'll go to that now." He turned and fled, his super speed carrying him easily across the lawns to the mansion, where his no doubt irritated tutor awaited.

"What did he tell you?" the genius asked, meeting Steve's blue eyes.

"Nothing really. He just hugged me."

Tony's mouth tightened into a grim line. "He had a nightmare last night. He woke up screaming again, and then he didn't talk for a few hours. I'm guessing you were in his dream."

"What?" Steve asked, startled.

"Oh, come on, Cap, did you think his only nightmares are about his aunt and uncle? Sure, plenty of them are, but he's just as scared of losing us. He doesn't tell me much, because he's usually so shaken, but I know he dreams about us dying, shot through the head just like his family. And now you're leaving on a mission."

"I can't stay." Even if now he really wanted to, wanted to run after Peter and spend the day with him and make him smile.

"I'm not telling you to. I'm just telling you what Peter is probably going through. He'll be fine. Pepper and I can take care of him. You have work to go. Shoo."

"Fine. See you tomorrow." He started heading up the ramp. He paused right before Bucky could close the hatch. "Tony? How often does Peter have nightmares?"

"Depends. Roughly once or twice a week. Sometimes less, sometimes more."

"Does it bother you? Having to wake up all the time to take care of him?" he asked, honest curiosity in his voice. Tony rarely mentioned Peter's nightmares, while Pepper was forever fretting over her little boy.

"No. I'm usually already awake."


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm so glad King T'Chaka allows Princess Shuri to spend time here, especially considering the...misunderstanding about Bucky," Pepper said, hugging herself and smiling softly.

Peggy smirked, her lips painted blood red. The two women were lounging by the pool as Peter and Shuri splashed around, armed to the teeth with water guns and a water cannon Peter had designed the day before in preparation for this battle. Whenever Peggy looked up at the windows overlooking the pool she saw Clint's jealous face as he watched the battle from his history lesson.

"King T'Chaka has similar difficulties in finding playmates for Shuri as we do for Peter, I imagine," Peggy mused. "Not anyone can be allowed near the Princess, and even then, her intellect would separate her from her peers. She's even smarter than our little spider."

"It's good for both of them. The only problem is how hard it is to arrange these play dates."

"Yes, but it's better than nothing. It's not exactly healthy to have Peter have such limited contact with people, but it's too dangerous to have him around people at the same time."

Pepper swallowed. "Trust me, I know." She'd seen Peter, seven years old and barely trying crush a crowbar in his hand. And true to Bruce's prediction, he was getting stronger as he grew. "Peggy, Peter started dropping hints that he'd like to go to school with Shuri."

The agent stiffened imperceptibly. "That's not possible."

Pepper glanced at the pool. Shuri had taken control of the water cannon and was trying to blast Peter off the waterfall as he crawled across it with that odd sticking ability of his. He looked busy enough that Pepper trusted he wasn't listening to her conversation, though she could never be sure.

"I know, but I don't know what to tell him. He's never really mentioned it before. It took him a while to adjust to being here, and then Tony was able to keep him happy with projects and tests and stuff, but he's getting restless. He hasn't left this place in two years, nearly three, and everyone else except Natasha are going on missions. And he knows he can't go on a mission for at least two more years."

"He'll be lucky if Steve ever lets him go on a mission," Peggy added. "He thinks of Peter like his baby brother. Stark, too. Regardless of whatever powers he may have, they won't want him on missions."

"Well, obviously I'm not going to be the one to tell him that," Pepper huffed, brushing a stray curl out of her face. "But I've been thinking, and I think Peter needs to get out of here. I don't care if its a vacation to a deserted island, he's getting cabin fever, and it's only going to get worse the longer we keep him cooped up here."

"Tony and Steve haven't mentioned this."

"Well, no offense to either of them, but they're not the most sensitive of beings."

Peggy didn't answer for a moment. She watched the two nine year olds play with a soft but closed expression on her face. Then she met Pepper's eyes. "I'll talk to Coulson, maybe Fury. See what I can do." Her eyes added, _which might not be much._

Nonetheless, Pepper smiled widely. "Thank you, Peggy."

"Enough of this. Too heavy. I came here to get away from work for a minute."

"Alright. What do you want to talk about?"

"Aren't you turning sixteen next week? What are you doing for your birthday?"

Pepper grinned and sipped her iced tea. "My father is throwing a party. It's really just a business function disguised as a present, but I'll be stuck at it, of course. I'll probably sneak out when it starts winding down and come here."

"I'm sorry," Peggy offered.

"I'm used to it. And in two years, I'll never have to see him again."

"Don't you wish you could spend your birthday with your friends though?"

"I'd want to spend it here if anywhere. But I kind of haven't told anyone my birthday's coming up, so it might be best if you don't mention it."

Peggy laughed. "Doesn't Tony know, at least?"

"Tony wouldn't know his own birthday if I didn't remind him. He doesn't remember mine."

* * *

"They're so cute together. Just look at them," Pepper murmured, snuggling into Tony's side.

Peter and Shuri had fallen asleep side by side in the enormous blanket fort they had created, their gentle snores filling the air. The TV was still on, and Pepper watched as the Death Star was blown up soundlessly. Tony had been slowly turning the volume down as the kid's eyelids got heavier and heavier.

Tony lifted his phone and snapped a picture. Then he started typing. "I'll have Steve send that to T'Challa. I'm sure he'll want to know that we're treating his little sister okay."

"T'Challa trusts us, Tony."

"Sure he does. Especially Steve. But he's a big brother. He's always going to worry, especially when Shuri is a little genius with a penchant for getting in trouble."

Pepper grinned. "I guess that's true."

Tony waved his hand and the TV turned off, then looked down at his girlfriend. "Now that the kiddies are asleep-" Pepper closed her eyes in preparation as he lowered his face towards her, "-how about you tell me why you didn't want me to know your birthday is next week?"

She opened her eyes and examined his face. "Were you spying on Peggy and me earlier?"

"Maybe, and I would like to know why you would tell Peggy and not me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Unbelievable!" she hissed, getting up and stalking down the hall, Tony hot on her heels.

"Pep!" he called, following her through the halls. "Pepper, please, I'm sorry! Spying is bad, and I shouldn't have done it, so I'm sorry! Pep!"

They reached an empty room and Pepper deemed it sufficiently far enough away from the living room. She turned sharply, and Tony jolted to a stop to avoid running into her. She spread her feet and crossed her arms.

"I don't appreciate being spied on," she said coldly, and he flinched.

"I know," he said, a miserable expression on his face.

"I have a right to privacy, Tony, even from you."

"I know, I agree-"

"You _agree?!_ Then why the hell would you think it's okay to spy on me? I thought you knew you could ask me anything, I thought that you trusted me."

He reached for her hand, but she jerked away. "Honey, please, I do! I do trust you, more than anyone!"

"I'm going to need an explanation, Anthony, not more empty words."

Something in his eyes guttered. "Don't call me that."

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts. That was too far, and she knew it. They needed to talk, not fling insults at each other. This time she reached for his hand, and he didn't move. He didn't do anything. His hand was limp as she squeezed it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Pepper said, looking up at him with her blue eyes.

He looked down at their joint hands. "I shouldn't have spied on you."

She willed herself to calmly ask, "So why did you?"

"I don't know. I fell asleep in the garage this morning, and I woke up, and I had to see you, so I checked the cameras, and your voice calmed me down. I honestly wasn't trying to eavesdrop or be a creep. I wasn't even paying attention to what you said, until you mentioned your birthday, and how you wanted to spend it with me." He flicked his gaze up to her face, pleading and a question in his brown eyes.

She sighed. "I do want to spend it with you. And I forgive you for eavesdropping, but this can't become a habit, Tony. You need to talk to me when you have a nightmare, or you need me, or whatever. I can put up with a lot of stuff, but there needs to be equal effort on both sides."

"I know, I know," he said quickly, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to it. "I'm trying. Its hard, but I want this to work."

"I know," she said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

Tony was always trying. Trying to be better, to get better, to do better. But he was trying to do it all on his own, and it wasn't working. All she could do was be there for him when he finally got it through his thick head that he wasn't in this alone.

* * *

"Steve? Can I sleep with you tonight?" Peter asked, appearing in the doorway in his spider print pajamas.

"Yeah, of course," the super-soldier said, taking his feet off the table and smiling over at the boy. Peter shuffled inside. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I just wanted to be here tonight," Peter said, heading over to the large bed and climbing in, like he had done countless times before.

"Okay, that's fine. Get some sleep. I need to finish a report," Steve said, gesturing to his Starkpad.

Peter nodded and burrowed down until only his curly hair was visible. Steve smiled at the boy for a minute before returning to his work. He'd sent Bucky on a solo op at Fury's request, which meant that he had a lot of paperwork to do. He was almost thankful, though, because it kept him from focusing on the empty side of the bed that he hadn't wanted to get into alone. Its like Fate sent Peter so that he wouldn't have to. He did still miss Bucky, but at least he had Peter.

A few minutes passed and Steve noticed that Peter's breathing pattern hadn't changed at all, not even slowed. The boy was wide awake. Frowning in concern, Steve set down the tablet and walked over to the bed. He sat next to the Peter-shaped lump on the bed and set a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Peter rolled over and looked up at Steve.

"Are you okay?" Steve prodded gently.

"Fine," Peter said unconvincingly, then grinned. "You didn't buy that at all, did you?"

Steve returned the grin. "Not one bit. Come on. You can talk to me, son. Or Tony, but I have a feeling you don't want to talk to him about whatever this is, do you?"

"No. I don't think he'd like what I have to say," Peter whispered, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest.

"Well, then I guess I would be the person to turn to. So what's up?"

"I've kind of been thinking about this for a while, I guess. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love all you guys, and I love this place, and I know that things are complicated and that I'm dangerous and-"

" _Peter,"_ Steve interrupted. "Take a deep breath. Just tell me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," the nine-year old said. He sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders. "I want to go to school with Shuri."

The super-soldier blinked. Then blinked again. Peter sighed and made to roll over. "Never mind, then. Forget I said anything."

"No, Pete, wait," Steve said, grabbing his shoulder. Peter meet his eyes again, but his were guarded. "I'm sorry. That just took me by surprise."

"Its stupid, anyways," he mumbled.

"No, its not. You're too smart to ever want anything stupid." That made the boy grin a little. "And this is really important to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I miss going to school. I liked school. I was good at it, and I had tons of friends. Tutoring is kind of nice, because I can go at my own pace, but I'm the only kid here, Steve."

"What are you talking about? Everyone here, except Bucky and me, are kids."

"Technically. But I'm the only one you treat like a kid. Which, fine, I am the youngest, but it still sucks. It sucks, and my only friend my age is Shuri, and we can only see each other once every few weeks. And I can't leave here. Everyone can leave, except me. Even Bruce can, if he wants. And if you and Tony have it your way, none of that will change for years. I don't want that, Steve. I want to go places, and talk to more than ten people."

Steve felt something heavy settle in his stomach, but he kept his face pleasant. "I understand, Peter. You shouldn't have to go through this. None of us should have, but especially you. I want to help. I can talk to Fury, and T'Challa about maybe getting you into Shuri's school, but nothing might happen. Do you understand? I don't want to give you false hope, Peter. I really don't, but I do want to try to help."

"You'll really do that?" Peter asked breathlessly.

"I'll try."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried, throwing his arms around Steve. "Thank you so much!"

Steve grinned. "Of course, son."

* * *

"We have a problem," Steve said, leaning in the doorway.

"We're going to have more than just a problem unless you get out right now," Tony growled, sitting up bare chested in his bed and glaring at the super-soldier.

"We need to talk."

"Can it wait until morning?" the genius demanded, then looked down as Pepper stirred next to him and sat up. Steve looked away as the sheet fell down.

"Tony? What are you—oh," Pepper said as she saw Steve standing in the doorway. "One minute, please."

"I'll wait out here," Steve promised, shutting the door.

Pepper slid out of the bed and grabbed her undergarments and nightgown. Tony didn't move, still glaring at the doorway. She huffed a laugh.

"He's not going away."

"He just intruded and nearly saw you naked. I think you're being much to calm about this," Tony retorted.

"I think that if he did barge into our room in the middle of the night knowing we were sleeping together then it must be important. Now put on some pants. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can go to bed." He raised an eyebrow. "To _sleep."_

Tony sighed, but got out of bed and tracked down some clothes. As she finished tying off her robe, he put on a pair of rocket ship pajama pants as his only attire, but she didn't want to argue with him about it now. A glance at the clock revealed it was one in the morning.

"Ready?" she asked.

"No," he grumbled, rubbing the scar tissue around his arc reactor. Despite his words, Tony threw open the door to reveal Steve waiting patiently in the hallway. "What is it, Cap?"

"Peter came to sleep with me tonight."

"We _know,"_ Tony said impatiently.

Pepper whacked his arm. He looked at her in betrayal, but she just turned to Steve. "Go on, please. Is Peter okay?"

"He's fine. But he came to talk to me about going to school in Wakanda with Shuri."

"What?! Since when has he wanted that?" Tony blurted out in obvious surprise.

"I don't know, but he seemed pretty dead set on it. It seemed like he's been thinking about it for a while. And he might have mentioned that he didn't want to talk about it with you."

" _What?!"_

Pepper frowned. "He told me the same thing, but I didn't think he had really thought it through. I thought Shuri had just been talking about her school to him, and you know how impressionable he can be. But he really talked to you about it?"

Steve nodded, then hesitated a moment. Dread curled in Tony's stomach as he demanded, "What?"

"I might have told him I'd talk to Fury about it," the super-soldier admitted.

Tony went still. "And do you actually plan to?"

"Yes. I promised Peter. I'm not going back on my word."

"Tony," Pepper murmured, reaching out to rub his shoulder, but he paid her no mind.

"He can't go to some school in Wakanda."

"Why not? He's exceptionally smart, and he's Shuri's best friend. Wouldn't it be good for both of them if they were going to school together?"

"Sure, if he was a normal little genius, and not a super-powered little genius who legally doesn't exist," Tony snapped. "He can't go to Wakanda."

Tony had his feet planted and was doing an impressive job of meeting Steve's glare, despite being quite a few inches shorter and only wearing rocket-patterned pajama pants. Steve, for his part, wasn't backing down, despite his loathing for conflict, especially with Tony. Pepper was stuck between them, torn. She understood why Tony was so opposed to the idea, and she understood why it appealed to Steve.

"He's not going to stay with you forever, Tony. He never was," Steve said softly, but powerfully. "Don't you want what's best for him?"

"Yes, I do, and that's staying here, where I can protect him."

"It's what he wants."

"He's nine. He doesn't know what he wants."

"Oh, but you do?"

" _Boys,"_ Pepper snapped, and they turned to her. "This is ridiculous. We all love Peter, and we all want to take care of him. And we all have a different idea of what that means. But it doesn't matter. Peter told us what he wants. Steve promised to mention it to Fury, which he will do. And then Fury can decide. It'll be out of our hands. Okay?"

"Fine by me," Steve said, raising an eyebrow at Tony, daring him to challenge Pepper.

The genius scowled. "Fine, since my opinion is going to be entirely disregarded in the matter."

"That's not what's happening, Tony."

"Oh, yeah? Why'd you bother wake me in the middle of the night if you're going to go running to Fury anyways?"

"Because you deserve to know. I don't quite know how you think of Peter, as your brother or son or ward or something, but you should know about something like this," Steve said seriously. "And I think you should talk to him about it. Because he seemed more worried about leaving you than moving halfway around the world."

Tony stared at Steve for a moment, then turned and started walking away. "I'll be in the garage."

Neither Pepper nor Steve moved to stop him. He clearly needed some alone time.

"He just needs to come to terms with this," Pepper assured Steve, twisting her strawberry blonde hair into a knot on her head. "I'm sure we'll see him tomorrow."

"Yeah," Steve murmured, not looking very convinced. He gave Pepper a weak smile. "Thank you for helping with that, Pepper. And, so sorry for waking you up."

"Its fine. I'm glad you did. I mean, this might not come to anything, but if it does, Tony is going to need all the time he can get to adjust to the idea of Peter going away."

Steve nodded, looking down. "And you? How would you hold up with Peter gone?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, I know that in two years everything was going to change anyways, but it's still a strange thought that I might not see Peter all the time."

Steve cocked his head. "What do you mean two years?"

Pepper flushed. "Oh, well, Tony will be eighteen. He'll go take back his company, and he's going to need my help. We'll have to move out of here, of course."

"...Right."

"The Avengers Program is for kids, to keep them safe and train them. It was never going to last forever." Pepper frowned. The super-soldier had paled and had a distant look in his eyes. "Are you okay, Steve?"

He blinked. "Yeah. I'm fine. We should probably get some sleep. Good night, Pepper."

"Good night, Steve." She pecked his cheek and then slipped back into her and Tony's room.

Steve went back to his room too. Peter was still sleeping in the huge bed, blissfully unaware of the midnight conference that had just occurred in the hallway. Steve considered joining him, but quickly discarded the idea. Instead he sat back down on the couch and picked up his sketchpad.

He wasn't sure why it was hitting some hard all of a sudden. Maybe because Pepper had brought it up, maybe because of Peter's surprise request, but he was suddenly stricken by the realization that this would all be over in a few short years, maybe sooner. They were all growing up and going their separate ways. It terrified him. The Avengers was the first stability he had ever truly had. He'd grown up dirt poor and on the brink of death, and then after his mom had died, he and Bucky had struggle to get by. The Avengers came with no worries, safety, and a ragtag, perfect family.

And he didn't want that to end.

* * *

"Tony?"

The genius wheeled out from under a car, pushing his goggles off his head. "Kid?"

Peter shut the door and stepped inside. "Steve said to come get you for breakfast. And Pepper said she'd come grab you, but, I, uh, I think we should talk."

Tony got up and set his tools on a table. "I'm guessing you know that I know that you want to go to school with Shuri."

"Steve told me…" Peter trailed off, shuffling in place and looking at his feet. Then he peeked up. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Tony said instantly, sitting down heavily on a rare clean counter top. He patted the spot next to him. Peter drifted closer and hopped up to sit next to him. "I'm not mad. Just to clear that up from the start, alright? I'm not going to lie, it took me by surprise. Especially that the first I was hearing about it came from Steve and Pepper, and not from you."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"No, no more apologizing. You're a big boy, we can talk about this maturely. You haven't done anything wrong, neither have I. Let's go from there. Okay?" Peter nodded. "Okay, good. So why did you not talk to me about this?"

Peter picked up a wrench and started turning it over in his hands. Slowly it accumulated indents, but Peter didn't notice and Tony didn't say anything. He had more wrenches anyways, long used to Peter's habits and mishaps.

"I don't know. Because I thought Steve would be more likely to help me get into the school? Not that I thought you wouldn't exactly, but I thought you might take it worse than him, or try to talk me out of it, or something."

"That's fair," Tony conceded. Peter snapped his head towards him in disbelief. "What? I'm man enough to admit that Steve handles the big stuff better than me. I've never liked change. It sounds ridiculous. I mean, I'm an inventor. I'm trying to change the world. But the personal stuff? I never want that to change. But if this is really what you want, Peter, then I'll try to help."

"I don't know if I _really_ want to go," Peter hedged.

Tony fixed him with an unimpressed stare. "Yes you do."

"But there's a ton of other stuff to consider," he argued, gesturing animatedly. "I've never even left New York, I don't speak Wakandan, I'd only know Shuri, I'd have to leave all of you, and I'd have to hide my super-powers, which I suck at, and a million other things."

"You want to go."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah I do." Then he peeked at Tony. "Will you be okay if I go?"

"No. Not entirely. But I'll get used to it. And it's not like we're never going to see each other again. I'm sure there's Wifi in Wakanda, and that visitors are allowed. So I'll deal with it, if this happens."

Peter leaned against the genius. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "No problem, kid."

* * *

"There you are, white boy!" Shuri yelled, running down the hall. "I've been waiting for you all morning!"

Peter hugged her tightly, a grin stretching across his face. "I had some trouble getting out of the house this morning. I misplaced my suitcase and it took forever to find it."

"Well, you're finally here, and I have _so_ much to show you!" Shuri babbled. "Your classrooms, the labs, the campus, and then tomorrow T'Challa promised to bring you on a tour of the city. You're going to love it!"

"That sounds awesome." Peter's eyes were wide and sparkling as he looked around the long hallway of his new school. Kids in uniforms drifted past, carrying tablets and backpacks, and other students were sitting on the balcony outside, studying in the sun. It was everything he'd hoped for and more. Then he turned around and saw Steve, Coulson, and Tony talking to T'Challa and his new Headmaster. "But give me a few minutes. I need to say goodbye."

"Okay. I'll just wait right there," Shuri promised, pointing to an empty table on the balcony. He nodded and she skipped off.

He turned back around and walked back towards Tony. Coulson saw him first and smiled. "Hey, Peter. Your bags are being brought over to the palace right now, and your admission is finished. You're all ready to start classes on Monday."

"That's great," he said sincerely, but locked eyes with Tony and Steve. Coulson noticed, and smiled.

"Well, I'm going to talk to the Headmaster a bit more, so I'll say my goodbye now," the Agent said. T'Challa and the Headmaster backed away a step. Coulson smiled. "It's going to be weird not having you around the Facility, that's for sure. Remember, have fun, don't work too hard, and be careful."

"I will," Peter promised. He hugged the Agent for a bit, then pulled back. Coulson smiled, ruffled his hair and rejoined the Headmaster. Leaving Peter alone with Tony and Steve.

"Gotta admit, this place is pretty nice," Tony said, pulling his sunglasses off his face. "Even I'm a little impressed by the set up they have going on here."

"I think you're really going to like it here," Steve agreed, but he wasn't as good at keeping the wistful note out of his voice as Tony. "It's a great school."

Peter tried to come up with something to say, but nothing sounded right in his head. So after a moment of indecisiveness, he just threw his arms around the both of them as tightly as he could.

"Whoa, easy on the ribs, there, Spiderling," Tony teased, shifting the embrace to be more comfortable for the three of them. Peter just buried his face farther into his chest. Tony smiled, silver lining his eyes, and dropped a kiss to Peter's brown curls. "I'm really going to miss you, kid. A lot."

"And remember, you need us, you call. No matter how unimportant, okay? And if this doesn't work out, there's no shame in leaving. This is supposed to be fun," Steve said, a bit choked up. "Call at least once a week, though, to let us know how you're doing."

"I will," came Peter's muffled voice. "I don't want you to go."

"Nonsense, you don't need us. You'll be running this school by the end of the week with the Princess as your best friend. And you still have a ton to do to get ready for school, so you better get to it," Tony said, tears vanishing without a trace by the time they all detangled themselves.

"Go on. You'll see us soon, I promise," Steve said, smiling encouragingly.

Peter nodded. "Okay. Okay. Bye."

"Bye, Peter."

"Later, kid."

The nine-year old hugged them each swiftly before running down the hall and rejoining the Wakandan Princess. They linked hands and headed deeper into the school. Peter looked back and waved as he went, and they heard him laugh as he rounded a corner and vanished from sight. Tony and Steve didn't move, however. They stood rooted in place.

"He'll be fine," Steve said after a minute. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"Of course he will."

"We should find Coulson."

Tony slid his sunglasses back on and stuck his hands in his pocket. "You go have fun with Agent. I'm heading back to the Quinjet."

Steve examined him. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Skedaddle. I'll get us ready for take off, and Pepper wanted me to call and tell her about the school anyways."

"Alright," he conceded.

Tony nodded and began to walk off. "See you in a bit, Cap."

* * *

 **This chapter is officially the end of part one of my story. I am in the process of writing part two, but to ensure that the next part is cohesive and well-written, I am going to take a hiatus (probably a few weeks) to write and edit. I _will_ finish writing this story, so please follow this story for updates. As always, thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, or followed my work. Feel free to message me directly if you have any questions, and happy holidays. Love, Lady of Lorule.**


	21. Chapter 21

"Get the shipment ready to go," a gruff, male voice with a heavy Russian accent ordered. Natasha shuffled forward and peeked around the corner of the shipping container. There he was. Her target, surrounded by tons of illegal contraband. Perfect. It was time to spring the trap.

She scuffed her heel against the dirty, concrete floor. The sound echoed through the cavernous warehouse and she saw the Russian's head snap around. She scrambled back, but he still caught a glimpse of her bright red curls. As she raced through the narrow passageway she could hear the man sounding the alarm. A grin spread across Natasha's face. The chase was on. Now the real work had begun.

"Hey, stop, little girl!" a different, burly man commanded in Russian. He was clearly startled that the intruder was a sixteen year old girl. Good. She used his surprise to dart forward and swipe his feet out from under him. She vaulted over his limp form and picked up the pace as she heard the slap of footsteps getting closer.

"There she is! Stop her!"

"I got her!" an overconfident man yelled, lunging at her from around the corner. She flipped over him, feet barely touching the ground before she whirled around and drove her foot into her assailant's throat. He fell hard, making a gurgling noise. She was already moving, and knew it was time to bring the chase to an end.

She heard two sets of footsteps to her right, on the other side of one of many enormous shipping containers. She veered that way and pretended to stumble to a stop when she ran directly into the two men. Both were more heavyset Russian men, hired to guard the illegal cargo in exchange for a cut of the profit. They wasted no time in trying to grab her. She danced back, catching the first in the chin with a sharp jab. He fell, but she knew she hadn't put him out of the fight permanently.

The second man swung a heavy fist at her, but he was too slow. She ducked and spun, using her momentum to scamper up his back and wrap her lithe legs around his neck. He scratched at her legs, bucking wildly in an attempt to unseat her. She squeezed tighter as he jerked backwards, ramming them both into the metal container. Ow.

Natasha didn't let up, cutting off his airways, and then twisted her body, flipping him over. She rolled off before he hit the floor and his head cracked against the ground. He had likely just sustained a concussion, but she had a feeling he'd survive it. He was incapacitated for now, and that was what mattered to her.

Before she was even standing upright a large foot slammed into her side and sent her tumbling back into the container. Ouch. She hadn't been ready for that. She'd thought she'd have a second more before the first man re-entered the fight. Still, this worked into her plan perfectly.

"Uh…," she groaned, pretending to have trouble pulling herself up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man grin, believing he had felled her. She also noticed that she'd gashed open his chin with her first assault. Red splotches adorned his shirt.

"Got you now, little bitch," he growled, gripping her arms hard enough to bruise as he hoisted her upright.

"Let go!" she shouted, thrashing. She could break his grip easily enough, but he was playing right into her hands. Her plan would work better if he sincerely believed he had captured her.

"Dmitri! Did you get her?" a new voice called. Natasha glanced at the other man she had just fought, but he was still out cold.

"I have her," he called, tugging on her hair hard enough to make her eyes sting.

A man rounded the corner and spotted Natasha and her captor. A sickening grin spread over his face and his eyes raked over her body in an unpleasant way. It was disgusting, but nothing she hadn't been trained to handle.

"We need to tie her up and bring her to the boss," the newcomer said, switching to English as if he thought that she only spoke Russian. How foolish.

"Did you find Mikhail and Vlad?" her captor asked, also in English.

"She took them both out, the bitch. Now stop talking. The boss will take care of her."

The men set about securing her, tying her hands and finding a black bag to shove over her head. They dragged her along, winding through the warehouse silently except to sneer the occasional threat at her. They were trying to confuse her, but it wasn't working. She knew they were heading right back to the barren space at the back of the warehouse. It was a good spot for interrogation.

"This is the intruder?" She recognized that voice. General Luchkov, her target, a a Russian Colonel General who had ties to the black market run by General Solohob, who S.H.I.E.L.D. was hard at work taking down. If she played this right, she could topple a whole crime ring with the information she could pull from Luchkov right now.

"Yes. She took out some of the men, but we caught her," Nat's captor gloated.

"Tie her down and call for backup," the general ordered.

"Yes, sir, right away."

Natasha was shoved forward again. She stumbled, desperately wishing she could see. She hated having one of her senses unavailable, but it was necessary to play her part. They needed to believe that they'd captured her and that she was in their hands.

She was forced to sit and her hands were re-tied to the flimsy wooden chair. They didn't tie her legs. Idiots. They were making this too easy for her. She heard more people enter the room and spread out on either side of her. She tensed, prepared for whoever would strike first.

Instead the black bag was pulled off her head and she found herself eye-to-eye with General Luchkov. He owned this warehouse and all the illegal goods within. The goods would eventually be circulated through the black market by a crime ring run by Russians that operated worldwide. Fury was counting on her to pull as much information from him as she could to bring back to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I know who you are, little girl," he said. His eyes trailed over her, but it was in assessment, not lust. "There aren't many who could knock out my men the way you did, without a single weapon. You must be the traitor from the Red Room. The Headmistress's rebellious Black Widow. It's been so long I didn't think anyone would ever find you."

He slapped her hard across the cheek. She rolled her head back, face stinging, then faced her target again. Fury must have forgotten to mention that her target had ties to the Red Room. Forgotten, or more likely he had purposefully withheld. She would never fully understand that man.

"So you've heard of me. I'm flattered," she said, red curls framing her pale face.

"The Headmistress is very eager to get you back. I wonder, does she plan to kill you? Or maybe she'll stick you in a cryotube and wipe your memories. Re-train you to be the weapon you were always meant to be."

Natasha felt a tightness squeeze at her lungs, but she shoved down her feelings. He was trying to use her past against her, and she couldn't let him succeed. Then he would hold all the power, regardless of whether she was tied up or not.

"I thought you were allied with General Solohob, not the Red Room," she said truthfully, but the confused look on her face was manufactured to keep him talking.

He fell for it. "General Solohob? That swine. He crossed me last year. No, your Headmistress and her Red Room are much more reliable than Solohob, and more effective at moving my products."

"She'll double-cross you," Natasha warned, and she believed herself. The Headmistress couldn't have much use for General Luchkov, no matter how much money he could bring her. The Headmistress was the spider in the center of the web, catching people and drawing them in closer and closer until she devoured them. Luchkov would be no different.

"No, she won't. I've made myself invaluable." Natasha knew that would only entice the Headmistress to prove just how replaceable he was. "Soon enough I'll be—"

 _Bzzt, bzzt._

Multiple sets of confused eyes snapped to the youngest guard in the room. He couldn't be much older than Natasha herself. In his hand was a phone, steadily vibrating. He looked panicked, further worsened by all the attention on him. He answered the phone, seemingly unsure what else to do. Natasha's eyes narrowed as the young man's face grew whiter and whiter as the caller whispered in his ear.

"Well? Who is it?!" the General snapped, causing the young man to jump.

"Its for her," he stammered.

Natasha sighed. She knew who was calling, and he'd promised not to compromise her mission.

The leader snatched the phone from the boy. He snapped at the caller, then fell silent. A second later he was holding out the phone to Natasha. She raised an eyebrow to remind him that she didn't have the use of her hands at the moment. He frowned and approached her cautiously, jamming the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She had to tilt her head uncomfortably to make sure the phone didn't slip to the ground.

"Really, Coulson? I'm in the middle of an interrogation," she snapped without preamble.

"Something came up," he said in a cool voice.

"You can't pull me out of this one. This fool is giving me _everything."_

General Luchkov looked offended. "I don't give everything." He looked to his guards for affirmation, but only met averted eyes.

She looked at him skeptically, then returned to her call. "Seriously, you're blowing my cover. There had better be a damn good reason for this."

"Natasha," he said heavily and she could tell something was wrong. Worry welled up in her. What if something had happened? Had Steve and Bucky gone on another tour of duty? Were they hurt? Had Bruce finally lost the fight with the other guy? Had Tony ODed? She almost didn't want Coulson to finish, wanted whatever he had to say to not be true.

"Barton's been compromised."

Clint. No, no, no, no, no. Not Clint. Not her stubborn best friend who followed her into the pits of humanity and back out. Not Clint, who had helped her discover sides to herself she hadn't known about. Not Clint, who had been the only one to follow her into S.H.I.E.L.D. when they all went their separate ways.

She forced herself to shove all that down. It didn't matter. Clint was compromised. She'd get him back. She forged her worry into cool anger. She said to Coulson, "I'm going to have to put you on hold."

Luchkov edged forward to take the phone. She lifted her head and made her eyes look as wide and innocent as possible to draw him in closer. As he reached down for the phone she slammed her head forward and their skulls collided painfully. He fell back and his guards rushed forward. She sprung to her feet, still tied to the chair, and threw her body at the closest man. The chair broke and the man went down. She rolled to her feet, two rods of woods tied to her hands. She adjusted her grip until she could wield them as batons.

The next two men went down quickly between a few expert kicks and well placed hits with the wooden sticks. The groans of the four men filled the space, and she didn't hear any more people coming. She must have taken out everyone else already.

She tugged at the rope, frowning at the red marks the tight knots had left on her forearms, but the wood and rope tumbled away and she was completely freed. Next she grabbed Luchkov and wrapped his legs in a thick metal chain, then tossed him out over the hole in the floor they'd placed her chair next to. He dangled, jerking, but she didn't worry. It would take a few men to get him down, and by the time any of his guards would be able to help S.H.I.E.L.D. would have flooded the place.

She grabbed the phone and started walking out of the warehouse. "What happened?"

"It's hard to explain. I'll send you the file. I have a Quinjet waiting to take you to New York. You'll catch up on the way," Coulson said.

"What's in New York?"

"Two people whose help we are going to need if we want to get Clint back."

"Are you really sending me to talk to Tony Stark? Coulson, you know we had a falling out."

"Oh no, I have Stark and Banner covered. You get the other two."

She frowned. "Who else is in New York?"

* * *

Natasha knew she should leave. They hadn't given her permission to be standing here, in their apartment, mementos of their life together (a life she wasn't a part of) plastered across the walls. Her eyes had been drawn to them the second she walked in. Rows and rows of military awards and pictures of two of the dearest people in her life in combat attire, standing on foreign soil. She had had no idea they were so highly ranked and acknowledged, though she supposed it only made sense, given their abilities.

She reached out, touching a picture of the two of them sitting together and laughing, crates of bombs behind them, and a strange melancholy fell over her. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed them, how distant she had allowed herself to become from the people who had saved her and trained her.

"We are not going back to that Chinese place," she heard a loud, amused voice from the hall boom, and it sent a sharp stab through her heart.

"Why not? The noodles were amazing," a second voice argued playfully, and she heard the jingle of key rings and footsteps right outside the door. She vaulted over the kitchen counter on instinct, then forced herself to straighten. This wasn't a typical mission. Her usual methods wouldn't work.

"Yeah, and the waitress grabbed your ass. Come on, let's branch out, find some other place to eat than the same ten restaurants."

She heard the key slide into the lock. She couldn't decide what to do with herself, what part to play for the best impact, what introduction would have the best results. She always knew what to do, but it was as if all her training simply melted away upon hearing those intimately familiar voices and she was no more than a scared little girl again. Before she could even attempt to make a plan, the door to the small apartment swung open.

"Natasha?" Bucky Barnes asked with wide eyes.

Steve flicked on the light that she hadn't bothered with and she had to stop herself from flinching. She felt like she'd been caught in the act of doing something wrong. Which, okay, she had technically broken into their apartment, but she knew they wouldn't care about that. The way Steve and Bucky's faces lit up as they realized, yes, this was Natasha, their little girl, she was really here, made her fragile heart crack a little more. She suddenly didn't want to tell them, didn't want to cause them anymore pain than they'd already suffered all these years.

"Nat, what are you doing here?" Steve asked, crossing the short distance from his front door to the kitchen to wrap her in a tight hug. She didn't hesitate in returning it, burying her face in his warm, broad chest. She'd always shied away from contact, even with Clint at times, but Steve felt like safety and comfort. She'd cried enough times on his shoulder and had felt his gentle hands carry her when she was sick or hurt too many times to associate him with anything else. "Last I heard, Fury had you deep undercover. He wouldn't even tell me where you were."

Steve pulled away, and Natasha wished he hadn't. Her brief moment of comfort was already gone. She faked a smile and said, "I've been here and there. S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps me busy."

"We could tell," Bucky said, shutting the door and then striding forward to give her a much briefer hug, though it was just as warm. "We haven't seen you in months."

"Last time I had vacation time you were still on your second tour of duty. When did it end?"

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other, but it was Steve who answered. "About four months ago. We decided to take a break from active duty for a while. Peggy helped us get this apartment and we've been laying low ever since."

A lump seemed to form in her throat. "That sounds nice. Normal. Just like we all dreamed of, huh?"

"Natasha? Are you alright?" Steve asked, a concerned furrow forming between his brows. He didn't look a day older than the last time she'd seen him, nearly a year ago, probably a byproduct of the super-soldier serum. Bucky too. They didn't look much different than they had nearly six years ago, when she first met them at the Avengers Facility, to be honest.

Instead of answering, she looked around their apartment. It was small, with one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchenette that rolled into the living area. Everything was clean and neat, not uncharacteristic of soldiers, but personal touches were everywhere. Their medals and pictures on the wall, Steve's sketchbooks on shelves and counters, a gun propped by the door that was definitely Bucky's, Steve's shield hanging above the fireplace, and a whole wall of pictures of the Avengers.

Unconsciously, she drifted forward, as if the pictures were pulling her in. She didn't even notice the worried glance Bucky and Steve exchanged at her atypical behavior. Her brown eyes trailed over the photos. She saw Tony and Bruce hard at work in their workshop, Peter taking a nap on Pepper's leg, Pietro giving Wanda a piggy-back ride, Steve and Bucky themselves fast asleep on the couch, still wearing their gear, and one of herself and Clint. Her attention snagged on the last one. Clint had his bow drawn, aimed at some faraway target, and she was hiding behind him, a nerf gun aimed at his back.

"I remember that day," she said, pointing to the picture. "Tony had declared a nerf war, and bet me a hundred bucks that I couldn't hit Clint. I shot him right after Peter took that picture and then Tony shot me not five seconds later. Tony had just wanted to knock the two best marksmen out of the competition early."

"Nat," Bucky said, a slight edge to his voice that cut through her hazy thoughts. "What happened?"

She swallowed, and found the only way she could get it out was in the clinical way Coulson had told her. Otherwise the words choked her from within.

"Barton's been compromised."

"What do you mean compromised?"

Her hands began to shake gently so she clasped them together. It was hard to meet Steve's eyes, but she forced herself to. He deserved to know what happened. They cared about Clint just as much as she did.

"For the last two months, Clint had been stationed in a remote security outpost working on Project Pegasus, some sort of energy research experiment. Coulson was the head of the project, and I know they were using some sort of alien technology that Fury thought was incredibly dangerous. Last night, the alien relic began to overload, and a being entered the lab through a portal created by the relic. The being identified itself as Loki of Asgard. He then used some sort of scepter that allowed him to mind control S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives and escaped the outpost right before it blew up. Fury, Coulson, and Hill all survived the blast. Clint...Clint was brainwashed by Loki and aided in his escape. And now we have no clue where, Loki, the alien relic, or Clint are. Which is why Fury is requesting that you two follow me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately."

"Who else knows?" Bucky asked. He looked focused, like he was already making a plan in his head. She remembered that he had always had the scary ability to detach himself from personal situations like this, something that she had never quite mastered.

"Fury, Hill, Coulson, and maybe Tony and Bruce. I know Coulson was heading over to Stark Tower to tell them about the situation to try and get their help."

"They'll help," Steve said confidently.

Nat and Bucky shared a look. Bucky placed a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Look, Stevie, I know you want to believe the best in everyone, but—"

"They'll help," he repeated, then strode across the room. He reached up and unhooked his shield from the wall. He turned back to them, and Natasha remembered why they'd code-named him Captain America. "Let's go. You can tell us more on the way, Nat."

* * *

Coulson was just as impressed with Stark Tower as he had been the first time he'd seen Tony's original blueprints for the structure. The first self-sustaining skyscraper in the world. It was ambitious, but Tony excelled at that. Stark Tower soared high into the sky, and the penthouse was known to host the wildest parties in New York, which was no small accomplishment. The labs on its lower levels had been the site of some of the largest scientific breakthroughs in history, with one Nobel Prize attributed to D. Bruce Banner who worked there as Head Scientist. His work with gamma radiation had made him world famous, but the young doctor was notorious for never giving public interviews.

The agent was easily able to enter the Tower and step into the private elevator that took him to the penthouse suite, which was uncharacteristically quiet that night. As the elevator passed level after level of the opulent structure, Coulson felt a small kernel of pride in his chest. He remembered all those years ago when he had formally met Tony Stark for the first time, shrapnel poised to kill him within hours. The young man had certainly come a long way since then, especially in the two years since he'd assumed his father's company and led Stark Industries into its most prosperous age ever. Tony had become the richest man in the world practically overnight.

The elevator doors slid open as he reached the penthouse. He stepped into the spacious area, bare but for a couch and table, and a bar on the opposite side of the room. Pepper Potts, now Tony's personal assistant and on-again off-again girlfriend, turned around on a bar stool. A wide grin spread across her freckled face and Coulson felt a smile appear on his own face. He had grown close to Pepper over the years, and regretted the circumstances that had led to them not having talked to each other in two years.

"Phil! It is so good to see you," she said, crossing the room to come greet him.

"It's nice to see you, too, Pepper."

"Security breach," Tony declared, leaning over the bar. He wore a t-shirt and jeans, the glow of his arc reactor visible under his shirt, and he held a cocktail in one hand, but there was something about him that just seemed tired. He certainly didn't look like the richest man in the world to Coulson. He looked like a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "How'd you get past my security, Agent?"

"Ignore him," Pepper advised.

"Your secretary let me up," the Agent said, used to Tony's odd mannerisms.

"How are you? It's been a while."

"I'm fine. Busy. That's why I'm here actually. Is Dr. Banner around?"

Tony stalked over to them, sipping from his cocktail. "What do you want with my Brucie?"

Coulson raised an eyebrow at the nineteen year old. "You are still underage, Mr. Stark, regardless of your personal success."

He winked. "I won't tell Fury if you don't."

"I'll call Bruce," Pepper interrupted. She tapped a panel on the wall and a hologram expanded out. Coulson recognized the design from something Tony had designed in his garage at the Facility a few years ago. His hologram technology made up a substantial source of Tony's income since he figured out how to put it in phones and mass produce them. But the best stuff he still kept for himself, it appeared. Pepper turned back to the two men with a smile. "He'll be right up. Can I get you anything to drink, Phil?"

"I'm good. I'm on the clock right now."

Tony tossed himself onto the couch. Pepper made a face at him, and Phil got the impression that they weren't together at the moment, despite the drinks they'd been having together, but it was hard to tell with them. Or if all the break-ups and get-back-togethers were just a product of an overactive rumor mill and gossip magazines. He still remembered when they were fifteen and blushed whenever they saw each other.

"So what's this all about then, Agent?" Tony asked.

"Peter's okay, right?" Pepper asked worriedly, hugging herself. Tony sat upright, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him yet. Well, it seemed their strangely strong parental instincts towards the youngest Avenger hadn't faded.

"Peter's fine," he assured them and the tension drained from the room. He should have guessed that's the conclusion their minds would jump to. "Still at school in Wakanda, top of his class behind Shuri."

"Of course he is," Tony said, pride evident in voice.

"So why are you here? You're starting to worry me, Phil."

"I'd prefer for Dr. Banner to hear what I have to say, too, if you don't mind."

Pepper acquiesced. "Of course."

Tension built up in the room again as silence fell between the three of them. Tony seemed restless as he drained his drink and then started fiddling with some holographic blueprints that emerged from the coffee table. Coulson was slightly worried by how easily Tony downed the drink. He remembered that Howard had struggled with drinking problems, and he didn't want Tony to go through that. Pepper sent periodic smiles towards Coulson, until her worried face turned back towards the elevator doors as she waited for Bruce.

Three heads turned towards the elevator as it let out a soft ding and the doors slid open noiselessly. Bruce's eyebrow shot up as he saw Coulson waiting. He stepped forward, tugging at the sleeves of his lab coat in a nervous manner.

"Uh, hi," the scientist said.

Coulson couldn't help smiling softly despite the news weighing at the back of his mind that he was about to deliver. Bruce looked good. Unlike Tony and Pepper, who were often on TV, Coulson hadn't seen the nineteen year old at all in two years. He was tall and thin, with a mop of dark curls and nervous brown eyes. He wore a lab coat and wire rimmed glasses were perched on his face.

"It's good to see you, Dr. Banner," Coulson said honestly.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you, but I'm guessing this isn't a social call," Bruce said wryly. He was always so smart and good at reading social cues, unlike his best friend.

"Unfortunately, it isn't." Coulson steadied himself by gripping the back of the couch as he prepared to give them the dreaded news. "A S.H.I.E.L.D. facility Clint and I were working at was attacked last night. A very dangerous item was stolen. And Barton was compromised."

The strength seemed to leave Pepper. She sat heavily on the top of the couch, a blank look in her eyes. Tony scooted across the couch to rest a gentle hand over hers. She didn't react.

"What do you mean compromised?" Tony asked, his voice harsh. Coulson could see the anger bubbling up in him, so bright and dangerous, as if he were still thirteen and prepared to take on the world by himself.

"What was stolen?" Bruce asked nearly at the same time.

"I think it would be best if you come with me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Fury has requested both your help and time is of the essence."

Bruce shook his head. "I want Clint to be safe, so I think I'll sit out of this one."

"Fury has requested your help with something else besides retrieving Agent Barton. I assure you, the other guy is going to be left out of this."

"What could be more important than finding Clint?" Tony demanded.

"Tracking down the person who compromised him and the very dangerous artifact he stole."

"How am I supposed to help with that?" Bruce asked with a puzzled expression.

Coulson felt a ghost of a grin on his face. "The artifact leaves behind a very faint trail. A trail composed of gamma radiation. And you're the foremost expert on gamma radiation, Bruce."

"What a sad indictment of scientists," he said, but Coulson saw the look in his eyes, and in the look he exchanged with Tony. They would help.


	22. Chapter 22

"Okay, this is pretty cool," Steve admitted, linking his hand through Bucky's.

He'd never been on a Helicarrier before now. He'd seen some of the blueprints Tony had worked on for them, and been on small aircrafts like the Quinjets, but none of that compared to being thousands of feet in the air in a flying military base/aircraft carrier. His fingers itched for his sketchbook so he could draw the clouds from above instead of below. They were sitting at a table above the command area of the carrier. Steve could see Maria Hill issuing orders below them, but she and everyone else on the bridge had ignored the Avengers.

"I know, right?" Natasha said, a brief smile on her face before it faded all to quickly. He could almost see the worry gnawing at her over Clint. He knew they were best friends, and working together for S.H.I.E.L.D. for the last two years had probably only strengthened that bond. Steve was worried too, but he couldn't allow that to cloud his judgement. They all needed to be at their best for Clint's sake.

"Where are the others?" Bucky asked. He seemed impatient. Steve squeezed his hand under the table. Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders.

"I'm sure they're on their way," Nat said.

"If they're coming at all."

Steve frowned at his boyfriend. "They're coming. Coulson called that in, remember?"

Bucky didn't reply. Steve didn't try to convince him either. They would see who was right about Tony soon enough anyways.

"Good, you're all here."

Steve, Bucky, and Natasha turned in sync as Coulson entered the bridge, a no-nonsense look on his face that he always assumed during mission briefings. It actually managed to ease some of the tension from Bucky's broad shoulders. If Coulson was here it meant they could actually start getting some information and doing things.

"Well, don't wait on our account, Agent," Tony Stark drawled as he strolled in, a shy Bruce right behind him. He took a seat across from the three of them and grinned. "Long time."

Natasha and Bucky seemed too stunned to say anything, so Steve took the lead. "I'm glad you're here. Both of you," he added, directing the second half at Bruce. The scientist gave them all a quick grin as he sat next to Tony.

"I know I'm a dick, but I wouldn't leave Barton hanging."

That seemed to be enough for the assassins, because they relaxed. Coulson cleared his throat and all eyes snapped back to him.

"Okay, all of you were briefed on the way. Now, I know all of you want to go rushing after Clint, but there's a bigger threat we're dealing with too. This Loki of Asgard currently possesses an incredibly dangerous weapon, and it is vitally important that we retrieve it."

"But we will get Clint, right?" Natasha asked.

"Of course. That's why I invited Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner here." He looked at the two scientists, opposites in so many ways but united by their brilliant minds. "There's a lab waiting for you two downstairs. Any equipment you need to track down Clint and Loki should be down there. If its not, I can arrange to get it for you."

"And what'll we do?" Steve asked, gesturing to himself, Bucky, and Natasha.

Coulson leveled his gaze at them. "You three will be in charge of bringing Loki and the Tesseract into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody once these two track them down. Agent Barton will most likely be wherever Loki is, and that will be our chance to recover him. If we don't, our chances of finding Clint plummet drastically. He's been trained to avoid detection, and even brainwashed we have to assume that he's retained all his previous skills which also makes him a very dangerous opponent who must be taken down quickly."

"What then?" Natasha asked, her knuckles white as she squeezed her hands together. Steve placed a calming hand on her shoulder, but it had little effect. She wouldn't relax fully until he could see that Clint was safe.

"We'll deal with that when we come to it. Fortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. has had some experience dealing with brainwashing thanks to Sgt. Barnes." His tone softened. "We all want to save him, Natasha."

Tony clapped his hands together and popped up. "Well, that settles it. Brucie and I will get to work right away. We should have a location within a day, maybe less, maybe more, depending on how well this Loki is at avoiding surveillance cameras."

Bruce stood too, and they departed down the hall. Coulson left next, joining Maria Hill on the lower deck, where he began issuing orders to agents. Steve wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't often that he had to wait for operations to start. He usually had a definitive target. He didn't like feeling useless. Natasha left after another minute and offered no explanation for where she was going.

"Guess it's just us," Steve murmured.

"Guess so. Come on. Let's go find somewhere we can practice." He eyed the red, white, and blue shield hanging from Steve's shoulders, that was at once familiar and foreign. "We need to make sure you still know how to use that shield. It's been a few months."

* * *

Steve flipped and caught his shield, then jumped back as Bucky's feet flew perilously close to his stomach. Bucky kept on the offensive, throwing punch after punch, giving Steve no time to reposition his shield. In a moment that he would regret later, he caught Bucky's fist to block a bow. His metal fist, made of Wakandan vibranium, gifted to him by Shuri before they went on their first tour of duty. So despite Steve's immense strength, the punch still sent him skidding back a few feet, giving Bucky all the opportunity he needed to ram his foot into Steve's leg.

The supersoldier dropped to one knee. As Bucky approached for the final blow, Steve threw his shield. It ricocheted off the walls and flew at Bucky's back. He whirled around just in time to catch it, but the momentary distraction gave Steve time to sweep out his legs. Bucky crashed to the floor, landing on his back next to Steve. Their panting filled the air as they both grinned, adrenaline pumping through their veins from the first intense workout they'd had in months.

"Not bad," Bucky said.

"Not bad? Really?"

"I've seen you do better. Remember that mission in France?"

Steve huffed a laugh. "You're a tough guy to impress."

"I'm plenty impressed by you," Bucky argued, scooting closer until their noses brushed. His human hand reached out and traced a path down Steve's chest. His breath ghosted over Steve's lips as he said, "I missed the uniform."

"Yeah?" Steve whispered, his voice low and husky.

"Get a room," someone yelled and they practically jumped apart. Steve sighed in exasperation as he saw it was just Natasha, leaning in the doorway. "Don't you know that anyone can just walk into this place? I could think of quite a few agents who would be a bit stunned to see Captain America making out in the training room. You're supposed to be a good boy."

He refused to respond to what she just said. Instead he asked, "Did Tony find anything?"

Bucky stood and then held out a hand. Steve accepted his help to stand up and went to retrieve his shield, which was laying on the floor. He slung it back onto its straps.

"Yes, he did. Loki's in Germany. Let's get down to the Quinjet."

* * *

"Well, this isn't awkward," Tony said, his voice rubbing abrasively against the tense atmosphere of the room. Well, Quinjet.

They were soaring over the Atlantic Ocean on their way to Germany. Natasha sat in the pilot's seat and had not said a word. Bucky and Steve were sitting next to each other in the back and had not broken the silence either. Tony had seemed content to let someone make the first move. He had been on his holo phone for the entire flight thus far. Steve thought he might have been playing a game with Bruce, but it was hard to tell. Clearly, Tony had gotten bored and decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Not awkward at all," the billionaire continued. "Not like we've been sitting in this plane for half an hour and haven't spoken to each other."

Steve sighed as he felt Bucky tense up. Time to step in. "I hate to be the one to remind you, Tony, but we haven't seen you in over a year since you showed up to Christmas drunk off your ass and said how much you hated living with us."

A bitter knot that Steve hadn't even realized had been pressing down on his chest loosened. It had been there so long that he had forgotten it was there. That was the last time every Avenger had been in the same room together. Steve knew for a fact that the only other Avenger Tony had seen since then besides Bruce was Peter. Tony had flown to Wakanda soon after Christmas and apologized profusely to the youngest Avenger, and had visited him fairly regularly ever since. He had not apologized or reached out to anyone else.

Tony didn't say anything for a minute. Steve settled back, leaning into Bucky's warmth, thinking that would be the end of it. Then Tony said in a quiet voice, "I was drunk. I didn't mean anything I said, and I would fix it if I could, but I can't."

"And what about the last year? God, Tony, I went to Afghanistan and didn't hear a word from you. No one has, except for Peter. Is that how you treat your friends?"

"Look, I can't change what's already happened, but I'm here now. The second Coulson told me Clint was in danger I dropped everything, and I'm here. Doesn't that count for anything?" Tony demanded.

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath. This wasn't helping anything. He'd forgotten how easily Tony could get under his skin, easier than anyone else he knew. Time to play peacemaker. He and Tony could have this fight another time. They might not have another chance to save Clint.

"It's a start," Steve conceded. Tony deflated a little and slumped back. That would have to do for now.

* * *

"Nearing Stuttgart, Germany," Natasha announced, flipping some controls on the ceiling. She had to stand up to reach some of the controls.

"Hey, why aren't the Wonder Twins here?" Tony asked, turning to Steve. "I get not calling in Peter, but Wanda and Pietro would be a big help if we're going up against a super powerful alien who has a mega weapon that could potentially destroy the earth."

"Because they're not active S.H.I.E.L.D. agents," Bucky answered laconically, the first words he'd said to Tony.

"What? Since when?"

"Since they decided they wanted to go to a normal high school, like Peter. They live with Coulson in D.C. and they're in their junior year," Steve explained. "And shouldn't you be suiting up?"

Steve noticed that Tony still had the arc reactor in this chest. That struck him as being odd. Pepper had told him a few years ago that Tony had developed a procedure that could safely remove the arc reactor and the shrapnel safely, so why hadn't he done it? Stark Industries had a subsidiary that dominated the medical sector of the market, Tony had all the resources he could want to perform the operation.

"Relax, Cap, I made some upgrades to the suit," Tony joked, and Steve was startled at how easily the nickname rolled off his tongue after such a long time.

Tony stepped back and spread his arms. Bucky raised an eyebrow at the dramatic pose, but then Tony flicked his wrist and gauntlets appeared on his hands. More pieces flew through the air and coalesced around Tony's body, encasing him in golden armor with red accents. Within seconds he was wearing his suit. Tony flicked up the face mask and grinned at them.

"Pretty cool, right?"

"How'd you do that?" Bucky asked, his inner science nerd unable to resist, even though it broke the cold shoulder he'd been giving Tony.

"I injected a few computer chips in my arm—"

"You did _what?!"_ Steve demanded, whirling on Tony.

"Boys, can we table this fight for another time?" Natasha called over her shoulder. "I have camera footage coming in now, Loki has been spotted inside a gala. We believe he may be after one of the people inside. Barton is most likely somewhere on the premise, but there's no footage of him yet."

"How do we know that Clint is there then?"

"Because an alert was just raised. Three of the security guards protecting the venue were found dead with arrows through their heads."

Tony whistled. "That's Clint alright."

"Let's go," Steve ordered.

* * *

"KNEEL!" the strangely garbed man ordered, his voice amplified by the duplicates of himself boxing in the frightened crowd of party-goers. The well dressed mass of people fell to their knees, cowering before the man in the horned helm.

"That must be Loki," Bucky mumbled into Steve's ear, loading a gun. Natasha guided the Quinjet closer to the scene, and Steve could hear the familiar sound of Tony's suit going through its weapons check. For a second it felt like the last few years hadn't happened, and he half-expected to hear Clint and Nat joking about who could take down the most targets and for Tony to call Peter, as the man had done before every mission when they were younger in case the worst happened. But of course Tony didn't, and Clint's absence was why they were there. Those times had passed.

"We need to get down there before he hurts someone," Steve replied, shaking off his nostalgia.

Tony's face mask snapped down and his mechanized voice said, "I'll make a pass around the building and try to locate Clint. He can't have gone far yet."

"I'll be on standby," Natasha added, sounding glum. Steve knew she wanted to go after Clint herself, but like a good agent, she understood where she needed to be for the operation to be pulled off as smoothly as possible. "Be careful against Loki, Steve. We don't know what he's capable of, or if he has the Tesseract on him. And don't let his scepter touch you. According to Fury, Loki used his scepter to mind wash Clint."

Steve nodded, folding that new information into the plan formulating in his head. Natasha had pulled the Quinjet as close as she could to the building, unable to land thanks to the dense crowd of people. No one had been hurt yet, but Steve didn't know how long Loki's patience would last.

"Tony, go," Steve ordered.

"On it," the billionaire said. The Quinjet door swung open and he rocketed out.

Steve pressed a quick kiss to Bucky's cheek and began moving towards the open door. "Cover me."

He jumped out of the plane before Bucky could stop him. The ground surged up towards him, but he forced his mind to stay clear, letting his instincts, honed from years of working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military, take over. He used his shield to absorb the impact and rolled to his feet. He barely had time to get his shield back in place as Loki shot a strange blast at him with his scepter.

"The soldier," Loki sneered. A wave of surprise swept through Steve. He hadn't expected the alien to recognize him. He was also afforded his first good look at the Asgardian, and that stunned him even more.

Loki looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, Natasha's age.

Steve knew there was a good chance he was much older than that, as Asgardians probably didn't age the same as humans, but it was still startling. He'd expected an alien trying to take over the world to be more intimidating and sinister, not a youth with greasy black hair and cold, cold blue eyes. He wore a strange coat and pants of leathery green and black material. His golden helm was adorned with two large, gold horns, and his scepter boasted an odd blue gem. Something about the weapon unnerved Steve more than Loki himself did.

"The one called Hawkeye told me about you," the Asgardian drawled, his eyes locked on Steve's shield, cautiously raised in front of him.

"I'm giving you one chance to surrender and hand over Clint," Steve warned. He felt a rush of air sweep past him and he knew Natasha had pulled the Quinjet into position to fire on Loki if necessary.

"Loki, stand down!" Natasha ordered, her voice booming from the speakers of the Quinjet. Steve heard a thump behind him and the click of a gun's safety. Bucky, on his left, like always.

"Are you here to save your compatriot from my vile clutches?" Loki asked, and Steve realized that it was madness gleaming in his eyes, not detachment. He tightened his grasp on his shield in preparation.

"Time's up," Steve warned.

"Indeed it is, Captain."

Without warning, Loki pointed his scepter towards the Quinjet and let out a blast of power. Bucky peppered him with gunfire, but it seemed to have no effect on the Asgardian. Steve watched the sky, helpless, and released a sigh of relief as the Quinjet swerved agilely and avoided the blast. Then he turned back to Loki and threw his shield. He blasted it to the ground, but was unprepared for the rapid physical assault Steve mounted.

Even with the serum coursing through his veins, his heaviest hits had little effect on the Asgardian. Still, Loki didn't seem to have much skill in hand-to-hand combat, as he seemed to rely so heavily on that magic scepter of his. Many of Steve's blows landed, until Loki managed to blast him away. Captain America sprawled on the ground yards away, and Loki stalked towards his felled foe.

Bucky let loose a shout and unleashed another round of ammo on him. Again, it caused him no harm, but it did give Steve a window to pull himself off the ground and retrieve his shield. He settled into a stance, ready to rejoin the fight before Loki turned his scepter on Bucky.

Steve heard a familiar whistle and he whirled around just in time to deflect the arrow soaring towards his head with his shield. It clattered to the ground, and he recognized the sleek black arrow with a thick tipped point. He slammed his shield on top of it and held down. An explosion rocked him, but when he lifted his shield the arrow had successfully detonated itself and he hadn't been blown up. Steve knew that arrow.

Tony had presented the exploding arrows to Clint for his fourteenth birthday three years ago.

"Cap, I lost Clint in the building," Tony's voice reported over the comms.

"Found him," Steve mumbled, sliding his shield back on.

"Get over to us. Clint's here, he's defending Loki," Bucky explained, delaying the Asgardian with more bullets. Steve could see him growing more and more annoyed with the nuisance. "We can't take them both on at once."

"Coming."

Clint unleashed another volley and Steve was forced to duck behind his shield. As soon as the arrows let up, he stood and tossed his shield. Clint rolled under it. The shield struck the side of the building and bounced straight back to Steve, who caught it and swore under his breath. He didn't want to hurt Clint, but he couldn't see any way around it.

"Sorry about this, Barton. It's not personal, I swear," Steve heard Tony say over the comms. Explosions rocked the ground as Clint shot volley after volley at Iron Man with amazing skill. Tony wasn't suffering any injury, but it was holding him at bay. That would have to do for now.

Steve rushed back at Loki, slamming into the Asgardian with his shield. Loki fell back, but before Steve could press his advantage the god sent another blast at him. Steve backflipped to avoid getting vaporized and Loki clambered to his feet. Neither one of them could seem to get the advantage, but Steve knew he had to end this soon. They were in the middle of the city and it was only a matter of time before Loki blasted a skyscraper when he missed. Steve couldn't let that happen.

"Buck, go help Tony!" Steve shouted, grunting as he caught a blast on his shield.

"Not leaving you," Bucky snarled.

"Your bullets aren't having any effect. Go save Clint and send Tony to help me!"

The Winter Soldier understood that that was the best plan they had. Bucky Barnes still hesitated though. They been through countless missions and battles, and Bucky was always there to protect Steve's back. Steve knew he'd pay for this call later, but it didn't matter. Stopping Loki and saving Clint mattered. Everything else could wait.

Steve saw Bucky turn and run towards the building were Clint was holed up, expertly shooting at Tony. Normally Tony would just obliterate the nuisance, but he didn't want to harm Clint. The archer wasn't responsible for his actions. Steve knew Tony was nearing the end of his patience though and it wouldn't be long before Tony gave him a concussion to end the fight. Which Natasha would kill him for.

* * *

Goddamn Barton and all his goddamn arrows.

Tony flew through the air wildly, exploding arrows nipping at his feet. His right foot booster had already sustained minor damage, and he was honestly lucky he hadn't sustained even more. Those goddamn arrows he'd invented did their job quite well. Too well, apparently, since they were successfully fending off Tony's latest Iron Man suit, which was no mean feat.

The irony wasn't lost on him that his own inventions were biting him in the ass again. It didn't improve his mood.

"Tony, I'm approaching Clint now," Barnes's voice said in his ear. The cold detachment he'd used in the Quinjet just minutes again was abandoned momentarily for the duration of the fight. Tony wanted to be mad at Natasha and Bucky for their attitudes, but he knew a sizable portion of fault rested on his own shoulders.

"Careful, I recognize that bow. It snaps into a staff really fast," Tony warned, correctly presuming that Barnes was going to take him hand to hand. Well, hand to robotic hand.

"Your work?"

"No, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. It'll still hurt if he whacks you with it."

"Noted. Once I engage Clint go back up Steve. That idiot is taking on Loki all by himself. Natasha can't get a good shot, they're moving around to much."

Tony groaned. Of course Cap was being reckless. "Alright. Let's end this."

Tony knew when Bucky had engaged Clint without looking. The explosions stopped. He wasted no time in boosting his rockets and getting to Cap. He could see them, a figure in green with a gold scepter and a figure in blue with a red, white, and blue shield, battling in the street. Their fight was punctuated with sharp energy blasts. Tony's scanners couldn't even determine what the blasts were made of, much less how dangerous they were. Tony was willing to be bet very.

Tony swooped down and blasted Loki square in the chest. The Asgardian was thrown and went tumbling away. He landed heavily next to Steve, who was panting, gauntlets raised and pointed at the god.

"Make your move, Reindeer Games," he warned.

In response, Loki, who looked much younger than Tony had realized, raised his hands.

"I surrender," he said in a clear, cold voice.

Tony let his face mask lift. "Well. That was easy."

Steve held his ribs and glared at Tony.


	23. Chapter 23

"We need to get them away from each other," Natasha murmured, her eyes locked on Clint.

The young archer didn't look well. Besides the obvious handcuffs and gag they'd put on him, dark circles ringed his eyes. His skin was pale and sweaty. If they didn't know better, they would guess he had the flu. But they knew that the cause of Barton's suffering was the other being Natasha had been referencing.

Loki was sitting quietly in the back of the Quinjet, aggressively tied to his seat. They hadn't bothered to gag him because he didn't seem inclined to talk, unlike Clint, who wouldn't stop swearing at them. His pacifism was starting to grate on Steve's nerves. He had no reason to be so calm, or to surrender. He had destroyed a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility easily enough, and enslaved the minds of many people in the few hours he'd been on Earth. What game was he playing?

"We can't do anything about that right now," Steve said, trying to calm her.

"I don't like this. We don't know how Loki's mind control works. What if we need to separate them to break it?" she persisted.

"Romanoff…" Bucky drawled in warning. He reached out and linked his fingers through Steve's and squeezed. Captain America's brow just furrowed as he considered his two prisoners.

Natasha fell silent. The two super-soldiers understood her frustration. Steve had gone through it himself years ago when Bucky had been brainwashed, but this was different. This was magic, not science. Anything they were doing right now was just guessing. Hopefully Bruce and Tony would be able to fix this, but if the two smartest men on the planet couldn't, Steve didn't know what they'd do. Or what could be done.

"I'll make sure they're separated once we get to the Helicarrier," Steve promised after a long moment. Then he released Bucky's hand and strode away, an unfocused look in his eyes. Nat and Bucky watched him go, but didn't say anything.

"We're about an hour out," Tony called over his shoulder. The Quinjet sliced efficiently through the sky, guided by his expert hands. He'd been taking calls for his company the whole flight, as if he wasn't in the middle of an extremely important and secret mission. Steve would typically have been the one to scold him, but no one was thinking straight. It hardly mattered that Tony was distracted when everyone else was too, spiraling down into their own heads.

Thunder crackled and rain began to pelt the Quinjet. Natasha frowned. It had been clear a second ago. They must be passing through a storm. She hoped Tony knew what he was doing.

Thunder boomed again and Natasha noticed Loki visibly jump. His pale blue eyes looked anxious, darting about the cabin of the Quinjet. Steve turned and frowned at the Asgardian.

"What? Are you scared of a little thunder?" he asked.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," the teenage god answered with a condescending tone.

Just as Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow the Quinjet dropped slightly, causing everyone to stumble. Natasha braced herself against the table and looked at Clint. Her best friend seemed unaffected by the unexpected turbulence.

Bucky righted himself. "Did something just land on us?"

Natasha blinked. He was right. That hadn't been regular turbulence. It almost felt like something had hit them, but that was impossible. Besides the fact that they were thousands of feet in the air, they were in the middle of the storm. Anything less than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best Quinjet model would be doomed in a storm like this. Thunder struck in front of them as if to prove her point. She started moving towards the cockpit.

"Stark!" Steve yelled. He reached for his shield.

"Take the wheel, Romanoff," Tony snapped at her. She quickly slid into the pilot seat and took control. Tony's suit assembled around him seamlessly. He snapped down his face mask and then strode forward, hitting the control that opened the ramp.

"What are you doing?" Bucky demanded as freezing wind and rain pelted them. Clint started struggling against his bonds.

A tall figure wearing armor landed on the open ramp. Tony raised his hand, the sound of his repulsors charging filling the air, but the strange man knocked him back into Steve, sending them both stumbling back. Bucky was busy securing Clint and Natasha couldn't leave the pilot's seat or the whole damn ship would crash and they'd all be doomed. They could only watch as the newcomer seized Loki by the throat and then jumped out of the ship.

"No!" Steve shouted, even though it was too late.

"I'm going after them," Tony said and rocketed out before anyone could stop him. Natasha closed the ramp as soon as he was out. She was freezing, and the cold was an unwelcome distraction. Flying through the storm was hard enough.

"Stop...it!" Bucky grunted. Clint had managed to slip his gag loose and used the opening to bite down on Bucky's arm. The Winter Soldier growled and then hit the archer soldily across the head with his metal fist. Clint slumped into unconsciousness instantly.

"Bucky!" Steve barked. "What the hell was that?"

"The little bastard bit me!" he growled at his boyfriend, a sour expression on his face.

"The whole point of this mission was to bring Cint in unharmed!"

"You wouldn't be saying that if he just bit you!"

"Boys, can we table this conversation until _after_ Stark comes back with Loki?" Natasha asked, letting her annoyance drip into her voice. They fell silent. "Thanks. And Clint will be fine. Barnes might've given him a concussion, but he's certainly had worse."

Steve readjusted his grip on his shield. "I'm going to go help Tony."

"Like hell you are!" Bucky snapped, grabbing his boyfriend's arm. "I'm pretty sure this storm isn't natural. Fury told us Loki has a brother, Thor, who can summon lightning. You are not going up against that!"

Steve kissed Bucky passionately on the lips, clinging to him in a way he never did in front of people, even their friends. Then he tore free of his grip and opened the ramp again. Wind howled through the Quinjet and Steve snatched a parachute and started putting it on.

"Take care of Clint," Steve ordered before hopping out of the plane. Bucky growled and shut the ramp.

"Barnes?" Nat asked, latching onto the closest authority figure as their plan spiraled furiously out of control. Loki had been abducted by Thor, Tony and Steve had jumped out of the Quinjet in pursuit, and Clint was slumped over unconscious in the back. Natasha could hardly believe how quickly everything had gone wrong.

He stalked forward until he was behind her in the pilot's seat. "Keep us in the air. The storm isn't going away. I'm going to try to lock onto Steve or Stark's signal."

She didn't have a better plan, so she obediently followed his order.

* * *

Thor landed on a nearby mountain and tossed his brother. Loki tumbled over the rocks, grunting, then came to a stop right before the cliff. His little brother picked himself up and sneered, but Thor was not in his usual amiable mood. He stalked closer before lifting Loki by the throat again. The God of Mischief dangled over the cliff, pulling at his brother's hands, and staring into furious, electric blue eyes.

"What. Have. You. Done?" Thor growled. Loki's feeble attempts at freeing himself went unnoticed. Thor dropped him, suddenly repulsed to be touching a traitor, and stepped back. Loki gasped for air, limp on the ground. "You got me banished to this dismal little world. I had to fight petty humans just to reclaim Mjolnir, and then you decide to pile onto these disgraces by trying to subjugate this lesser race to your non existent rule?"

Loki spat out a glob of blood and met Thor's eyes. "You got yourself banished, with your own arrogance," he proclaimed.

Thor let loose a roar and Mjolnir was summoned to his hand. He raised his arm, but did not let his weapon drop. Loki's face didn't even twitch.

"There it is, brother! Your legendary temper!" he crowed, climbing to his feet. "You want to pin all your failings on me so very badly, but it's time you take some responsibility, _Odinson._ I begged you not to go to Jotunheim. I begged the All-Father not to banish you. It was your pride that landed you here. I thought five years on this pathetic rock would teach you some humility."

"It has not, but I have learned responsibility," Thor retorted, pointing Mjolnir at his brother's pale, thin face. Sparks fizzled from his eyes. "And I will hold you responsible for the suffering you have caused the people of Midgard."

Loki looked fascinated. "My, my, brother, it is possible that you've grown to care for these humans? What would the All-Father think?"

"You know what our Father would think."

" _Not,"_ Loki hissed, " _our_ Father."

The God of Lightning lowered him hammer. A stricken expression stretched across his handsome, tan face. "I know. Mother told me. She asked me to bring you home. To Asgard, brother."

"I am not your brother, and Asgard is not my home!"

"I will always be your brother and Asgard—"

A blur of red and gold slammed into Thor, knocking him off the mountain and into the dense forest below. A small grin crossed Loki's face as he watched his brother smash into the ground hundreds of feet below.

* * *

"Stay down," Iron Man warned, hands raised towards the alien sprawled on the forest floor. He charged his repulsors in warning as J.A.R.V.I.S. analyzed his target.

The alien flipped over. He wore a strange chest plate of metal and a long red cape. He was handsome enough, Tony was willing to admit, with a very California surfer vibe that a lot of girls fell for. Tan skin, muscled arms, and shoulder length blonde hair. Tony would guess based on appearances that the alien was about twenty-one, Steve's age, but he knew looks were probably deceiving in this case.

Tony had not doubt that he was standing across from Thor, Norse god of thunder. He was probably thousands of years old and extremely powerful.

Still, Loki had been easy enough to handle. How bad could his extremely well-built older brother be?

Thor laughed and climbed to his feet. "You dare to order me around, _Iron Man_?"

Tony didn't react visibly. So Thor knew about him. That could be good or bad. He had made quite a name for himself over the last few years as Iron Man. Once he'd escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.'s grasp upon turning eighteen Tony had come out of the shadows he'd been forced into since Afghanistan. Iron Man had become a superhero, a national icon. But did Thor consider him a threat or a display of human arrogance?

"I'm giving you one last chance," he warned, his repulsors whining. "Drop the hammer and stay down."

"You have no jurisdiction over Asgard. Loki is coming with me. He will be tried by Asgardian courts."

Uh oh. The big guy sounded angry. "We're not on Asgard. He's a wanted man. Once S.H.I.E.L.D. is done with him, I'm sure they'll let you escort him back home." Tony lowered his arms. This conversation was pointless, and every second he wasted gabbing with Thor was a chance for Loki to escape. "Until then, stay out of our way."

He turned and started walking towards a clearing where it would be easier to blast off. They'd left Loki unsupervised on that mountain, and Tony would not let that greasy weasel out of his grasp. Not after what he did to Barton.

A sensor suddenly blared on his visual display and something slammed into his back, sending him crashing into a tree. Ouch. Tony picked himself up and turned around to see Thor retrieving his hammer and charging forward. Tony snapped and blasted the Asgardian.

"Okay, I'm officially pissed off," Tony declared. He raised his hands to blast Thor again, but the god tackled him. Tony started his boosters and blasted the both of them into the sky. This was usually a very good strategy. Only he'd forgotten that Thor could also fly.

He grunted as Thor slammed him into the side of the mountain. That was going to be leaving a bruise. He flipped them around and rocketed up, grinding the god into the cliff, but it didn't even seem to leave a scratch on him. It was definitely annoying him though. Thor regained control and slammed down, sending them both plummeting towards the forest floor. Tony blasted out of Thor's grip, but not in time to avoid a crash landing.

He picked himself back up and turned to face his opponent. Thor had thrust his hammer in the air and Tony's momentary confusion was replaced by horror as thunder boomed. Lightning erupted, centered on the hammer, and then Thor pointed his weapon towards Tony. Lightning struck his suit, sending him flying back. Tony felt like he'd just gotten the world's more intense static shock, but his armor did a good job of protecting him otherwise.

"Status?" he panted urgently.

"Power at four hundred percent, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. reported, his voice oddly distorted, but audible.

Tony raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting effect. Sparks flew off his suit as he whipped around and hit Thor with the biggest blast he'd ever unleashed from his blasters. This time the god went flying backwards, crashing through trees.

"Argghh!" Thor screamed, hushing forward with electricity crackling off his hammer. Tony braced himself for the blow, but instead something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling forward. Thor was also struck and his sparkles dissipated.

"Alright, that's enough!" an authoritative voice commanded.

Tony flipped up his visor and turned towards a fallen tree. Captain America caught his shield effortlessly and jumped down from log, stalking forward the stand between the man of iron and the god of Asgard.

"We both have bigger issues at the moment," Steve said, addressing both of them. Neither had relaxed from their stances. "Once we have Loki safely locked up and retrieve the location of the Tesseract from him, we can begin discussions about returning him to Asgard."

"Who are you?" Thor demanded. A momentary spike of pleasure went through Tony as he realized Thor knew who he was, but not Steve.

"Captain America," he replied in the completely sincere tone that Tony had only heard Steve ever pull off. It made him annoyingly trustworthy. Thor seemed to agree, because he lowered his hammer.

"You speak for your superiors, Captain?"

"No, but I can bring you to them and argue on your behalf." Tony gaped at Steve, but the super-soldier wasn't done yet. "I don't have any interest in keeping Loki on Earth for any longer than we have to. I just want the Tesseract back, and then he can be Asgard's problem."

"Very well."

Tony snorted. "Yay. Team up."

* * *

"What is the meaning of this, Captain?" Fury demanded as Steve, Tony, and Thor walked onto the bridge of the Helicarrier. Bruce hurried over as he spotted his friends from the corner he'd been hiding in. It was a testament to how weird their job was that very few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents even looked over at the group approaching.

"Thor wants to help us capture Loki, sir," Steve reported.

Fury's expression darkened. "Isn't that what you did when I sent you to Germany?"

"He, uh, got away."

"What was that, soldier?"

"If I might," Thor said, subtly stepping between the Director and Steve. Tony seemed to have lost interest and had collapsed into a chair, not quite facing the group. Bruce went and hovered by him. "It is my fault Loki escaped. I underestimated my brother. He had one of his minions waiting to spirit him away and now we lost him."

"Um, that might not be true," Bruce stammered. Four sets of eyes snapped towards him and he flushed, rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

Fury stepped towards him. "What was that, Banner?"

"Well, the software Tony and I created can still track him down. Only, I can't guarantee results because it relies on surveillance spotting him. We only caught him last time because—"

"He didn't care if we found him," Steve finished, sighing. "He wanted to put on a show. He could have slipped in and out easily enough if he wanted, sent his minions to do his dirty work, but he didn't. Why?"

Tony swiveled around, slouched in his seat. "My money is on that's he's a full-blown diva."

Thor stalked forward until he towered over the billionaire. "Be careful how you speak of him. He may be a criminal, but he is my brother, and a Prince of Asgard."

"He's killed eighty people in two days," Maria Hill remarked as she swept by, a Starkpad in hand.

"He's adopted."

Fury sighed and walked away, as if he needed a moment to gather his patience. Steve had to admit, things were not going smoothly. This whole situation was absurd, which was saying something because Steve had been dealing with one crazy thing after another for seven years. But an alien god from outer space come to enslave the Earth was hard to wrap his mind around. And then they'd failed in their retrieval mission. They never failed.

"Banner, Stark, go do whatever you have to do to track down that son of a bitch. _Now."_

For once, Tony followed orders without complaint, dragging Bruce along with him. Fury turned back to Steve and Thor. "Where's Natasha and Barnes?"

"They're bringing Clint to the Medbay."

"What did you do to my agent?" Fury asked, growing more frustrated by the moment.

"Barnes had to subdue him to prevent him from escaping with Loki. I sent him to get assessed for a concussion." Steve winced, knowing his explanation didn't exactly make the situation seem any better.

Fury rubbed his forehead. "Great. My best sniper is out for the count, and Agent Romanoff won't want to leave his side. And Loki is still out there, somewhere, with the Tesseract." Fury turned and started walking away. Steve stepped forward in alarm.

"Where are you going, sir?"

"To call in some back-up."

* * *

"Mr. Parker?"

Peter looked up in surprise. His teacher was standing over his desk, looking at him with an expectant expression. He hastily pulled off his headphones.

"You're being called to the office. Grab your things. And don't forget to turn in your lab report before you leave!"

Peter frowned as he gathered his things. He couldn't be in trouble, because he never got in trouble, but he couldn't think of any other reason he'd be called down to the office. He got up and exited the classroom in a daze. Shuri sent him a questioning look as he opened the door, but he shrugged vaguely. He didn't know what was going on either. She frowned and turned back to her assignment.

The office was right down the hall. He entered and went straight towards the principal's office, smiling at the secretary even as nerves caused his hand to shake a little. He forced himself to take a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"Hello, Mr. Parker. It's been a while."

Peter froze, his eyes going wide as he beheld Nick Fury sitting in the principal's chair, legs up on the desk. He hadn't seen the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. in nearly four years, ever since he first started going to school in Wakanda. Worry instantly flooded him as all the possible reasons Fury could be here now raced through his mind. _Please nobody be hurt, please, please, please don't say something happened…_

"Um, sir, what—what are you doing here?" Peter asked, awkwardly folding and unfolding his arms in a failed attempt at being casual.

Fury stood and walked around the desk, sitting on top of it. "I'm here to grant your greatest wish. I have a mission for you. Time to suit up, Spider-Man."

"What? Um, I'm good. Really. I wanted to go on missions when I was like eight, I've grown out of that phase. So I guess I should just head back to class now, if that's why you came all the way here—"

"Not so fast, Mr. Parker. Or have you forgotten that you're under S.H.I.E.L.D. jurisdiction until you turn eighteen? I get to order you around for a few more years."

"This has got to be illegal," Peter said, his mind churning as he tried to process everything that was happening.

Fury shrugged. "Maybe. But its either S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA for you, kid. Do you want to ask your friends Wanda and Pietro Maximoff which one they would prefer?"

Peter felt his nails break his skin as his hands clenched into fists. He felt the beginning of a panic attack clawing at him, but he forced it down. It had been years since he held his aunt and uncle's bodies for the last time, but hearing the name HYDRA still hit him like a sledgehammer every time he heard it. Which Fury knew, since he had every bit of information there was on Peter and all the Avengers.

"I have a Quinjet waiting to take you to New York outside right now. Agent Hill is inside it, preparing to brief you on the mission on the flight over," Fury said, sensing his victory in Peter's silence.

"I can't just go to New York!"

"Got something better to do?"

"Yes! I have...homework."

"Mr. Parker," Fury said, towering over the twelve year old. And here it came, the news Peter had been dreading, that Fury was going to let Hill break to him, the news that had been sending Peter's spider-sense buzzing softly, but urgently, since he stepped into the room. "Your friends, the Avengers, are currently trying to fight a god from outer space who is hellbent on destroying the Earth, and they need help. Your help. It's time to use your abilities to do some good and hopefully, save this motherfucking planet."

Nothing, not even his very unusual formative years living in the Avengers Facility, not living in a hidden technological wonderland, had prepared him for the stark sense of horror that pierced his heart as he heard those words.

"Is anyone hurt? What's happening? How fast can I get there?" Peter blurted out in rapid succession, horrifying images from his worst nightmares plaguing his mind.

"Agent Barton has a concussion, but Stark, Banner, Romanoff, Barnes, and Rogers are preparing for round two. The twins are already on the way, and you should be too, so go get your skinny ass on that Quinjet," Fury ordered, all his patience gone.

"Yes, sir." Peter was gone in the blink of an eye.


	24. Chapter 24

"Easy," a low voice murmured.

Clint clenched and unclenched his hands, his vision swimming. Vague figures flashed before his eyes and he felt sweat dripping down his temple. The only sounds he could make out were the uneven huff of his own breath and that low voice that had not left ever since he woke up with the headache to end all headaches.

"Focus. You can do it," that same voice encouraged.

He panted, blinking his eyes as if to make the figures go away. They were starting to get clearer. He could make out his surroundings. There was a woman sitting next to him, and a man, maybe a bodyguard, standing by the door. The room was small and he was sitting on a bed, his hands bound. He blinked again and everything went hazy.

"Natasha, this isn't working," the man said as Clint gave another violent thrash. "We need to go."

"I'm not leaving him like this."

Silence. Clint's wrists were beginning to bleed as he tugged against his restraints. He shook his head and panted with the effort it was taking to clear his head. He felt like his head was full of knives that were stabbing at all of his senses, but he didn't cry out.

"Clint. Look at me."

It took enormous effort, but he managed to tilt his head to face the woman. Her face wavered, her features indistinct, and he wanted to look away, but he forced himself to look at her. Slowly, his vision returned and he could see her. Her pale, worried face framed by soft, red curls.

"Natasha," he rasped, his throat stinging.

"Took you long enough," she said, reaching for his wrists.

"Nat!" the bodyguard snapped. Clint looked over at him and realized it was Bucky.

"Hey, Barnes."

Natasha stood and crossed her arms, glaring at Bucky. "Loki's effect is gone. It's just Clint, and I'm taking his restraints off."

Clint's memories came flooding back and he tugged against his restraints again as urgency flooded his body. "Loki! What happened? Is he dead?"

Bucky stepped forward, but Natasha held him back. "Clint? What do you remember?"

"Everything. That son of a bitch used me to blow up that S.H.I.E.L.D. base and then we went to Germany and...oh. Sorry about that, Bucky."

The Winter Soldier gave no reply. Natasha took that as permission to remove his bindings. Clint rubbed his wrists, smeared with blood from his attempts at escaping. No wonder Bucky didn't trust him if he'd been acting so deranged. Clint could typically escape any bindings in minutes. It was a special talent of his, and that he hadn't thought to use it only illustrated how far gone he had been under Loki's control.

"It's fine," Natasha answered instead of Barnes as she handed Clint a glass of water that he gratefully drank from. "You weren't in control of yourself. There was nothing you could have done to stop it."

"Do you know where Loki would have gone?" Barnes said harshly, his dark, emotionless eyes on Clint.

"Barnes!" Natasha snapped.

His eyes didn't leave Clint, and suddenly the archer understood why Bucky had sometimes been used for solo missions when they were all Avengers. It had been incredibly rare for any Avenger to go on a mission alone, as they were all so young and inexperienced, but Fury had sent Bucky on many by himself. Bucky never said goodbye, returned in the dead of night, and never talked about what happened. Bucky was an assassin, and a damn scary one, if the way he was able to turn off his emotions was any indication. Clint had never realized how truly terrifying the man could be until know, with his blank eyes stared him down.

"What do you mean where he would gone? You mean you didn't kill him and that he got away?!" Clint demanded, latching onto the meaning behind Barnes's interrogation.

"That's it! Barnes, get out of here. You're not being any help. _I'll_ brief Clint," Natasha declared.

Bucky and Natasha had a brief staredown, that ended with Bucky leaving without a word. Natasha sat back down next to Clint, a pissed off expression on her face. Clint gave her a moment, then couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Natasha, what happened?"

She sighed. "Barton, you missed out on a lot of stuff."

* * *

"How are these strange instruments going to help locate my brother?" Thor asked, roughly jabbing one of the delicate glass screens Bruce and Tony had scattered around the workplace Fury had provided them with.

"Ah, please don't touch that," Bruce said, scrambling forward and resetting the screen. Steve ducked his face so that the poor scientist wouldn't have to see his amusement. He was sitting on a corner out of the way of Bruce and Tony's genius, as he had learned to do long ago. Thor, however, had not quite learned that yet. "Its really sensitive equipment."

"What, you don't have computers on Asgard?" Tony asked, spinning his chair around to face the group.

"Asgard has no need for such primitive technology," the god declared proudly. "I fail to see how you expect to catch my brother this way."

"We can't just allow him to keep going around and killing people. And since you haven't stepped forward with a better plan, we're doing it my way."

"That's enough, Tony," Steve said quietly. "Thor has offered to help us."

Tony rolled his eyes and spun back around. Images flashed across the screen so fast even Steve had trouble making it out. Bruce had already warned him it was unlikely they would find Loki unless he wanted to be found, but Steve didn't feel comfortable sitting around and doing nothing. Not with Loki out there with the Tesseract.

Steve heard quiet footsteps and turned his head to see Bucky slip inside. Some of the tension he'd felt since they'd lost Loki evaporated as he saw his boyfriend. He pushed off the counter and went over to him, reaching for his hand.

"Clint?"

"Awake. Natasha believes that whatever pull Loki had on him is gone," Bucky reported.

"That's good to hear," Bruce sighed in relief. It was clear he had felt extremely guilty about everything concerning Clint and Loki since all he could do was provide back-up from the lab. Unlike the others, he didn't go out and save the day.

"What do you think?" Steve asked quietly, noticing how he had put the diagnosis on Natasha's shoulders.

"I think when your head gets messed with it isn't always so easy to fix the damage." Steve swallowed, remembering the torment HYDRA had put Bucky through years ago. "But I will admit that he seemed more lucid and in control. He recognized us, which is more than I can say he was capable of in Germany."

"I can run some tests on him and see if he's clear," Bruce offered.

Steve considered, then shook his head. "No. Our priority right now if finding Loki. I want you to focus on that. Once this is all over we can run that check-up."

Bruce nodded. Though not much more was said, Steve could feel some of the tension drain from the room. Clint was okay. At least one part of their mission had been a success.

"Quinjet's coming into the hangar," Tony reported, flipping a screen around to display security footage from the hangar.

"So? Why are you even monitoring that, you're supposed to be looking for Loki," Steve said.

"Because, Cap, I don't trust Fury. Did anyone else notice that he conveniently forgot to mention what he was doing with the Tesseract in top secret when it was stolen? And that he has all of us waiting here while he took a Quinjet for a joy ride? I want to know what was more important than finding Loki that he left us here in the middle of a mission."

There was a good chance Tony was being paranoid and suspicious, as he typically was, but there was a ring of truth to his words. The situation was unusual, which Steve hadn't failed to notice, he'd just shoved it to the back of his mind until Clint was safe. But what had a seventeen year old archer been doing in a top secret scientific research base in the first place? Natasha hadn't even been with him.

"Well, it looks like Fury's back if you want to ask him yourself," Bucky told the billionaire.

"Wait," Steve said, straightening up and looking at the screen. "That isn't Fury."

* * *

"Wanda? Pietro?"

The twins turned in unison and smiled widely as they saw Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Tony hurrying across the hangar to them. Pietro appeared at Bucky's side and smirked as he caused the Winter Soldier to jump and spin around. Pietro laughed, then disappeared again as Bucky took a playful swing at him. Wanda hugged Steve tightly, reaching up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. He picked her up easily and squeezed her tight.

"It's good to see you, kid," Bucky told Pietro, a genuine grin on his face.

"We missed you," Wanda said, speaking for her twin, as Steve set her down. "We tried to get Coulson to let us come to New York for a visit, but he wouldn't let us."

"What are you two doing here?" Steve asked, looking between the two sixteen year olds. They were supposed to be in school in D.C. right now. They were both in casual attire, Pietro in jeans and a Nirvana shirt, Wanda in a short black sundress. They were not dressed for an op in any way.

"What do you think? Fury called us and told us to get our asses on the Quinjet he sent. Told us you guys needed some help. Sounded way more interesting than a math test," Pietro joked, appearing at his sister's side.

"Well, I, for one, am glad to have some help," Tony said, his arm casually slung over Bruce's shoulder. Pietro and Wanda looked at him carefully, clearly determining if he was sober. Steve grimaced. Their team had certainly fractured over the years. "Bruce and I are working on tracking down Loki. Did Fury catch you up to speed yet?"

"He told us about Loki and Germany. Is Clint…?" Wanda asked, biting her lip.

"He's fine. Nat's taking care of him right now," Steve assured her. Pietro nodded in relief. Steve knew the twins had been very close to Clint. Ever since they started going to high school they'd lost contact with him for the most part, but whenever the Avengers got back together they were always thick as thieves.

"Well, Bruce and I need to get back to the lab," Tony interrupted.

"We'll be right up," Steve answered, looking over the twins. "We need to get you two some suits."

* * *

"Any word from Fury, Commander Hill?" Steve asked as he strode onto the bridge with Bucky and Thor trailing behind him.

The woman hardly spared them a look. "Not yet, Captain. He'll be here when he needs to be. Have Stark and Banner come up with anything on Loki yet?"

"No. But they're working on it."

She sighed. "Then I suggest you head back down to the lab and properly motivate them. There's not much else anyone on this ship can do until Stark and Banner deliver some results."

Steve frowned, his protective nature surfacing as Hill insulted his teammates abilities. He was about to retort when Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Right. They weren't teammates anymore. This was a solo op and they'd only been called together because Fury needed the biggest guns he had to bring down Loki, and they hadn't been successful. They weren't in a position to argue back right now.

"Commander?" an agent called up from the crew on the bridge. Hill stalked over and Steve followed her. "We have a bogey approaching the Helicarrier rapidly."

"What? Who is it?"

"We're not sure, ma'am. I don't think it's a civilian craft, but our sensors are having trouble picking up on their signal, but they're heading right for our rear."

"Steve?" Tony's urgent voice said through the comm. "We have a big problem."

"What?"

"We think Loki is heading right for us in an aircraft. I'm picking up the energy signature of his scepter, and I think he's going to try and knock us out of the sky."

Steve's eyes widened. He leapt up to the main control unit and slammed his hand down on the emergency alert button. Flashing lights and the warning alarm blared all over the aircraft.

"Rogers! What the hell are you doing?!"

Steve could see an aircraft right outside the enormous windows of the bridge before it breezed by. Too late. Even if they deployed fighters immediately it wouldn't be enough to stop Loki.

"Everybody down!" Steve shouted, tackling Bucky to the floor and shielding him with his body.

A huge explosion rocked the Helicarrier and Steve knew at least one of the engines had been hit. The ship listed and began falling from the sky, the view outside the windows dizzying. They were falling too fast. Steve held onto Bucky with all his strength and prayed to God that this wasn't the end.

* * *

"Um, what's that?" Peter asked, pointing out the window.

"Kid, I already told you, go sit in the back until we land," the annoyed Quinjet pilot told him, shoving him out of the cockpit.

"No, there's something wrong!" Peter insisted as his stomach knotted and his hair stood on end. His eyes flicked up to the window and widened in horror. A huge ship was on fire and falling from the sky, one of four huge engines completely destroyed. Somehow Peter knew that all his friends were on that ship and that that was where the pilot was supposed to be taking him.

"Go sit down," the pilot ordered again, facing Peter so that he couldn't see what was happening right in front of him.

"You need to turn the ship!"

A smaller craft was flying away from the wreckage and approaching Peter's Quinjet. Somehow he knew that that was the craft that had caused all this, and that they were the next target.

"Kid," the pilot growled in frustration.

Peter's spidey-sense flared up. He lunged for the pilot, but it was too late. The other ship fired, hitting the main engine, and their Quinjet started to fall from the sky. A hole burst open in the side of the ship and the suction pulled Peter out of the vessel.

He screamed as he plummeted towards the ground thousands of feet below. Wreckage from the Quinjet and the huge carrier whipped through the air around him. His ears popped as the elevation changed rapidly. Pure terror filled his veins as he realized that nothing could stop his fall, not his super powers or anything else. He found himself wishing intensely for one of Tony's Iron Man suits, or even just a parachute. Also that one of his super powers was flying. That seemed infinitely more helpful than a danger sense right now.

He heard a sharp whistle cutting through the air and he looked up, dread coiling in his stomach. That sounded like a missile. Wasn't getting splattered on the ground a good enough death? Did he really have to be blown up?

"Subject: Spider-Man identified. Activating 17A now," an achingly familiar robotic voice said.

" _J.A.R.V.I.S.?"_ Peter asked in astonishment as something collided with his back. Metal began coating his body, wrapping him in a layer like a second skin. He closed his eyes as he felt it coalesce around his face. When he opened them he was looking through a lens, the air no longer stinging his eyes as he plummeted, and a holographic display flashed warnings at him. "I know I'm falling to my death already! _J.A.R.V.I.S.,_ please do something!"

"Deploying parachute."

Peter felt an unpleasant jolt as a parachute erupted from the back of his suit, slowly his descent rapidly. He let out a sigh of relief as he drifted towards the ground.

Then he remembered the giant ship that the pilot was supposed to be bringing him to. The ship that Tony, and Steve, and Nat, and his family was on.

The ship that was crashing into the earth, shredding apart and sending out a massive shock wave.

"No, _no_ , please, God, no…"

* * *

Steve coughed, the taste of ash coating his mouth, and pulled himself upright. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision before realizing that his sight was fine. It was the scene that was a mess.

"Shit," he swore as he remembered seeing the ship approaching them, the engines going out, and the Helicarrier falling out of the sky. Thor and Bucky—

He'd tackled Bucky, shielding him as the ship had plummeted. Steve looked down, alarmed but not surprised to see that Bucky was no longer beneath him. The impact must have tossed them apart. He looked around the bridge, which was unrecognizable. Metal beams and debris were everywhere. Some work stations had caught fire, smoke and sparks distorting the already hazy air. Then Steve saw a metal arm and he scrambled to his feet even as his body protested.

"Buck," he said, kneeling next to his boyfriend. Bucky looked relatively unharmed, but his metal arm was pinned beneath a beam. There was blood on his lip, but the wound seemed to have closed already, and the rest of his body was in a cocoon, surrounded by fallen beams that miraculously missed him.

Bucky groaned, brown eyes flickering open and landing on Steve. "Uh...Stevie?"

"Yeah, it's me, Buck. I'm going to lift the beam, and then I need you to slide out, alright?"

Bucky's eyes snapped around, taking quick stock of their situation, and just like Steve his disorientation had faded away. "Alright. Don't hurt yourself."

Steve didn't deign to answer. He curled his fingers under the beam and lifted. It was heavy, and he grunted, but he only needed to lift it a few inches. Bucky rolled out of the way as soon as his arm was freed. Steve dropped the beam and the floor shook, causing ominous groaning but no actual damage. Steve's ears began picking out groans, cries, and mumbled exclamations as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents began waking up.

"Are you alright?" Bucky asked, standing up and gripping Steve's shield harness to keep himself upright. Steve steadied him with a gentle hand.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"Your head." Bucky brushed his fingers against Steve's temple, then showed them to him. Blood.

"I'm fine. It'll heal quick."

He nodded sharply, military instincts kicking in now that he knew Steve was okay. "The others?"

"I don't know." He raised his hand to his ear, but his comm was gone. Probably smashed and under tons of metal. He looked around. Agents were attending as best they could to each other's wounds. He saw Hill getting her leg set by two mostly unharmed agents. It looked like they had taken shelter under a walkway that hadn't collapsed. Still, no sight of long blonde hair and a red cape. "Thor!"

Steve and Bucky turned in unison as there was a great crash behind them. A metal sheet went flying, and out from under it staggered the Prince of Asgard, his cape torn but otherwise unharmed. His eyes literally crackled with fury, sparks flying off his fingers.

"What happened?!" Thor demanded, striding over to them.

"Tony thinks that Loki was in that other aircraft. He must have knocked out the engines, and then we fell out of the sky." Steve wrinkled his nose at the heavy scent of smoke and burned flesh. Then worry shot through him again. " _Buck._ Tony, Wanda, Pietro, Nat, Clint...Bruce."

Bucky swore, his hand flying to his ear. "I lost my comm. We need to go find them."

"No, we need to find my brother and put a stop to all this madness," Thor disagreed, locking eyes with Bucky as if daring him to argue.

Steve held up a placating hand. "We will. But first we need to find the others. You're a warrior. You know it would be foolish to go up against your brother with just the three of us while he has the scepter. We need all the help we can get."

Thor clenched his jaw but nodded. The three young men scrambled over metal beams and skirted fires. The hallway that led to the lab where they'd last known the Avengers to be in was collapsed. Thor offered to try and plow through with his hammer, but Steve was quick to point out that could bring down the entire Helicarrier. Any surviving structure left was unstable, so they needed to do their best climbing over it.

And if Tony was conscious, he was probably already working on a way to reach them.

"Cap! Bucky!"

"Pietro?" Steve asked in disbelief as the teen appeared in front of them. The gray and white suit Tony had designed to withstand the enormous friction of his speed was torn and bloody, his white hair coated in a thick layer of dust, but he up and running as fast as ever. Steve could have cried from relief, but there wasn't time. "The others?"

"All alive. Wanda, Clint, and Bruce are all unconscious. Nat has a nasty bump on her head, but Tony's suit protected him and he already treated her."

He spoke lightning fast, straining the limits of coherency, but Steve heard the important bits. Alive. They were all alive.

"Where are they? Can you bring us to them?"

He bounced on his toes. "I can, but we need to hurry. Tony thinks Bruce might Hulk out as soon as he wakes up."

* * *

Tony lifted up Wanda. She weighed nothing compared to some of the machinery in his shop, even if she had grown a good few inches since he'd seen her last, when he was drunk and cruel. Her brother had sprouted up even more. Tony shoved his guilt aside and focused on carrying Wanda safety through the wreckage of the lab and as far away from Bruce's unconscious figure as he could get. He'd already brought Clint to a mostly intact room hundreds of yards from the lab, and instructed Nat to stay with him. Now he needed to bring Wanda there.

He was still worried that that wouldn't be far enough, not from the Hulk.

"I got you," Tony murmured as he ducked under a beam, Wanda's long hair brushing against the ground. He was extra careful of her leg, which had a large, hastily bandaged cut on it. It could get infected in a heartbeat with all the leaking hazardous materials in the air. Tony was concerned they'd all die of a gas leak before the Hulk ever got to them.

Not that every bone in his body wasn't begging him to go back and save Bruce. He wanted to. Bruce was his science bro, one of his closest friends, nearly a brother to him, and the only Avenger to stick by his side since they left the Facility. But he couldn't risk the safety of the others. Right now, Bruce _was_ the danger.

"Almost there, Wanda," he promised, hopping over some debris. "I'll drop you with Clint and Nat, then Roadrunner will come back with Cap, and we'll fix this. We'll fix everything."

Stopping Loki was quickly becoming the only thing Tony cared about. That, and punishing the bastard for controlling Clint, attempting to kill them, and now for hurting his friends.

"Tony, thank God," Natasha said as he entered the room and laid down Wanda next to Clint. She was looking pale, propped against the wall with Clint's head on her lap. "Has Bruce…?"

"Still out like a light. I don't know for how much longer."

He grabbed the metal red and gold chest he'd had Nat carry from the lab. He kicked it open and his suit began folding itself around him, shaping to his form. It took longer than usual because of a few huge dents it had garnered during the crash, but within a minute he was encased in his Iron Man armor.

"What are you doing?" Nat asked, frowning up at him.

"I need to keep an eye on Bruce, and lure him away from you guys if he wakes up. Pietro will be back with Cap soon, and then he can take care of you."

"You can't fight the Hulk on your own!"

"What, you think Bruce and I never planned for this exact scenario? I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Tony—"

He left the room, cutting her off. He knew what she was going to say, and it would all be very reasonable stuff, such as _don't do this,_ and _are your crazy?_ He wasn't a fan of this plan either, but he wasn't about to hole up in a room and hope that Bruce doesn't kill them.

An alarm blared on his suit and he whirled around, repulsors raised and then fired. A flash of red and gold dodged and dangled from the ceiling by six mechanical limbs.

"Woah, Tony, don't shoot!"

Tony's helmet flipped off. " _Peter?"_

The figure dropped from the ceiling and the arms retracted. It was the suit he had made years ago after he'd woken up in a cold sweat, a nightmare of Peter dying fresh on his mind. An Iron Man suit, but unlike any he'd made before. This one was slim, flexible, equipped with little weapons but the Web-shooters and the six retractable arms. He'd shown it to Peter once, after one of their remarkably few fights.

"No. No, no, no, you are not supposed to be here!" Tony snapped as the mask with the big white eyes disappeared to reveal the last person on Earth Tony wanted to see in a burning Helicarrier where the Hulk was about to start smashing everything and most of his friends were injured.

"I know, I know, but I saw this big ship get shot down, and then _I_ was shot down, which sucked, but then this suit came, and I remember you told me it was only for emergencies, which I think this counts as, and—"

Tony grabbed Peter's shoulders and cut him off mid-babble. "You need to go find Nat and _stay there._ Understood?"

"No, no way, I can help! This suit is really amazing, by the way, and the arms are so cool, you need to teach me how you programmed them later."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut tight, wishing this horrible nightmare would go away. But when he opened them, Peter was still standing right in front of him, that adorable face that Tony had never been able to say no to staring up at him with way too much courage and not enough fear. He sighed.

"Fine, kid. We finally get to do a mission together."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Find Cap and Barnes. Someone needs to go help Nat, and I'm going to need some help too, so tell the lovebirds to split up."

Peter nodded eagerly, clearly relieved that he had something to do and wasn't getting sidelined. "Right away."

"Wait, one thing first." Tony pulled Peter into a tight embrace, breathing in the clean, soap smell of him that was so out of place in this burning hunk of metal. He pressed a light kiss to the side of his head, then let go. "Hurry, okay?"

Peter shot a web and yelled back, "On it!"


	25. Chapter 25

"Commander Hill!" a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent called, scrambling over some wreckage to stand at attention near Maria Hill. She was resting on the ground, her leg in a makeshift splint. She had come out of the crash better than some of her agents, however. She'd counted at least five bodies, and many more people were missing, probably crushed under tons of metal.

"What is it?" she snapped, grimacing.

"Captain Rogers told me that there might be a situation with Dr. Banner. He told me that you'd know what that meant."

She felt all the blood drain from her face. "Dear God…" She turned towards the highest ranking officer crouching next to her. "Evacuate everyone from the Helicarrier."

"But, Commander, everyone's injured, and we still need to dig out everyone who's trapped!" he argued.

"We're all going to die if we don't evacuate _right now! Move!"_

* * *

Peter scrambled through the twisted maze of the downed ship, his spider-sense keeping him from touching an unstable pillar or cutting himself on the jagged shards of glass that littered the floor. The iron suit was incredible. It seemed like a second skin, utterly flexible and completely under his control. A single thought would bring the extra legs shooting out to help him maneuver through particularly difficult spots, not that he needed much help. His small, thin frame helped him slip through the ship easily. Tony had fallen far behind him, his bulkier Iron Man armor impeding his progress.

Peter stumbled as a deafening roar shook the fragile structure. He felt his stomach drop and his spider-sense blared louder than it ever had before in his life. He dove blindly to the side just as something tore right through the metal walls and went barreling through the Helicarrier.

"Bruce?" Peter whispered in disbelief.

The monster seemed to hear him, because it turned around and fixed its hate-filled green eyes on him. It was enormous, towering over Peter and wide enough to block the entire hallway. Thick, bulging muscles covered its entire body, naked but for a pair of severely fraying pants. The only thing that Peter could recognize of Bruce in the beast was his head of dark hair.

"NO BRUCE!" the monster bellowed and charged right at Peter, hands outstretched. Peter fled, a string of curses leaving his mouth that would made Pepper faint to hear him say.

Peter knew he would be dead if the debris wasn't slowing down the Hulk, if only marginally. He wasn't about to complain though. He didn't have time, not with his spider-sense trying to drill a hole in his head and an angry monster he was in no way prepared to fight on his tail. It had been a while since he had practiced in the training room, and his school for geniuses wasn't exactly offering _any_ physical exercise classes.

After what felt like an eternity, weak sunlight peeked through the debris. For a moment, Peter debated whether he should stay inside the Helicarrier, where the hallways limited the Hulk, but S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would be less at risk if he took this outside. That settled it. He leaped through a hole in the roof and emerged into the daylight. The Helicarrier had crashed into a wide open field, which meant there were no buildings, no trees, nothing for Peter to swing off except for the precarious shells of wrecked Quinjets. Not good.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Peter asked, desperately hoping Tony had installed the A.I. into his suit.

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

He could have cried from relief. "Tell Tony the Hulk is about to kill me on the deck of the ship!"

"Contacting Mr. Stark now. Might I suggest trying to blind Dr. Banner with your spider webs?"

"I'll take any help I can get." He settled into a crouch as a green fist burst through the deck, and the body followed soon after. Hulk didn't seem to appreciate Peter trying to slip away from him. Oh crap.

Hulk let loose anything earth-shaking roar and charged. Peter shot webs at his face and then dove out of the way. For a split second, it looked like it had worked as the monster stumbled around, clawing at its face. Then the webs shredded away like it was silly string.

"Any more suggestions, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Peter asked, his voice shaking.

"Mr. Stark is on his way."

That should have been more reassuring than it was. Peter wasn't sure even Tony could take down this monster.

* * *

"Hurry!" Pietro snapped, his body seeming to glitch in his impatience.

"We don't all have super-speed," Bucky grumbled, vaulting over a fallen beam. They were making steady progress towards Nat, Clint, and Wanda, especially with Thor simply crushing anything blocking their path, but they all felt the pressure of saving their friends before the Hulk was unleashed. The only thing keeping their panic at bay was that Tony would protect them until they arrived.

They all came to a pause as a deep roar shook the Helicarrier. Steve and Bucky exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"I'm guessing that was the friend you were so worried about," Thor said, adjusting his grip on his war hammer.

"Pietro, go find where that came from and come back. Don't engage the Hulk!" Steve ordered.

The boy vanished. Steve didn't wait for him to reappear before charging forward, Bucky and Thor following his lead. Not even a minute later Pietro reappeared, running alongside Steve.

"Hulk's tearing through the middle of the ship. He's not anywhere near my sister, but he's moving fast," he reported. "Is that really Bruce?"

Steve frowned. He'd never seen the Hulk in person, but Coulson had provided him with any and all information S.H.I.E.L.D. had on the Hulk, including footage. It was hard to reconcile the enormous monster with quiet, clever Bruce.

"It is, but not entirely. The Hulk has his own mind, but if one dies, so does the other. Thor and I will try and subdue him. I need you to bring Bucky to the others. I'm trusting you two to protect them. Get them off the Helicarrier if you can."

"I'm not leaving you," Bucky snarled.

Steve grabbed his shirt, pressed a desperate kiss to his mouth, then shoved him away. "Yes, you are. That's an order."

Bucky swore violently. "You had better come back to me, soldier."

"Til the end of the line," Steve promised, then turned and headed in the direction of the Hulk's rampage. Bucky and Pietro continued on to the trapped Avengers.

"Your friends trust you quite a lot, Captain," Thor remarked. "Have you led them into many battles?"

"I used to. Right now I just want to save them, then stop your brother."

"I will make sure Loki is punished for putting your friends in peril. It is the least I can do to reward your bravery. Not many are willing to fight their friends."

"You're fighting your brother," Steve pointed out, and watched as the god clenched his jaw.

"My relationship with my brother has always been...strained. We always fought as children. Now, though...I never thought he would try and do something like this. Don't mistake me, I know Loki doesn't care for Midgardians. But he also never used to care for Midgard. I don't understand what compelled him to try and enslave this planet."

Steve's brow furrowed as he took in Thor's words. Something was tugging at his mind, something about that odd scepter, and mind controlling Barton, but before he could connect the pieces he saw a familiar flash of red and gold.

"Tony!" Steve called, relief evident in his tone.

"No time to talk, Cap. Follow me," Tony ordered, rocketing up. Thor looked to Steve for orders. Steve sighed and began climbing up through the holes Tony had created, Thor right behind him.

"What's going on?" Steve yelled.

"Bruce Hulked-out, and I sent Peter to find you, but I think the Hulk found him first."

" _Peter?!_ Tony, what the _hell_ is Peter doing here?" Steve demanded, a fresh wave of panic sweeping over him.

"Fury."

Steve clenched his jaw. He was going to have words with Fury when all this mess was dealt with. He should not have dragged a twelve-year old into this. _Especially_ Peter. Next he was going to find out Loki was holding Peggy hostage and Sam had been on the Helicarrier when it crashed. This day was quickly working its way up the ranks to become the worst day of his life.

They finally emerged on the top deck of the Helicarrier. The Hulk was there, looking unnatural in the light of day, tearing up the deck, and throwing Quinjets at a nimble little figure in red. Peter. He was engaged in a deadly dance, and it seemed like only his precognitive awareness was allowing him to avoid the Hulk's brutal onslaught.

"I can hit this one?" Thor checked, flipping his hammer.

"We're only trying to knock him out," Steve reminded the god. A big grin split his face and dark clouds gathered overhead.

"No problem."

The Hulk caught sight of the newcomers just as Thor launched himself straight at the beast. Tony wasted no time in rocketing over to Peter, scooping him up, and bringing him back to Steve. The soldier kneeled next to the boy as his mask folded away. Peter grinned up at him, face pale but uninjured.

"Hi, Steve."

"Hey, son. Sorry we didn't get here sooner."

"S'okay."

Tony grasped Peter's shoulder, and it seemed to be the only thing holding the boy upright. Steve recognized the effects of shock settling into him. He couldn't help the surge of pride that welled up in him as he looked at Peter, though. The kid was hopelessly brave and recklessly stupid, going up against the Hulk alone. He was every bit the hero Steve had always known he would be.

Steve braced himself against Tony as Thor slammed his hammer into the ground, sending up a shock wave that knocked the Hulk back. Steve had been apprehensive about letting Thor take on the Hulk alone, but the god seemed to be doing just fine. Their fight was gradually moving farther and farther down the runway, away from all the Avengers. Tony seemed to realize the same thing, because he allowed his helmet to come off and he sat down, leaning Peter against his chest.

"Don't we need to go protect Nat, Clint, and Wanda?" Peter mumbled.

"No. I sent Pietro and Bucky to go get them. They'll be fine. We are going to need to regroup though, once Thor takes care of Bruce."

Tony snorted. "I wouldn't hold my breath, Cap. I have a feeling they'll be at it for a while."

"We need Thor to take down Loki."

"Says who? Thor? I think we can take care of that greasy weasel on our own, once I finish tracking him down. Every minute we don't find him is anything chance for him to kill or mind control more people. We need to deal with him. Now."

He wasn't wrong. And while Thor would make a very valuable asset to a team, they didn't have time to wait. Lives were on the line.

"Alright. Do you have any way of contacting the others?"

"Like you even have to ask."

* * *

"Commander Hill. I'm glad to see you're okay. Did you manage to evacuate all of the personnel?" Steve asked, striding up to the woman. Tony had located a huge group of agents fleeing into the woods, away from the wreckage of the Helicarrier and the destructive battle that was still raging between Thor and the Hulk.

"All the survivors we could find," she grumbled. Steve looked around and his heart sank. It looked like only about half the crew had made it, and many of them were covered in makeshift, bloody bandages. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Well, I'm sure you noticed where Dr. Banner and Thor are." Thunder boomed overhead as if to accentuate his point. "Everyone else is a little ways that way. We had a few injuries, but nothing serious."

"That's better than I can say for my lot. I've already contacted Fury. He's sending emergency crafts to come rescue all of us as soon as its safe."

"We don't have time to wait for transport. Loki just took down a Helicarrier. Who knows what he's planning next?"

"I think I might," a voice offered from behind. Steve spun around to see Clint standing, his arm thrown over Natasha's shoulder for support, a grim look in the archer's eyes. "And I don't think you're going to like it."

* * *

"Okay, let's go over this one last time, just so that we're all caught up," Wanda said as all the Avengers looked at her. "We think that Loki, a god from space, is going to use the Tesseract, which he stole from S.H.I.E.L.D., to make a wormhole through space to bring an army of aliens to conquer the Earth."

"Correct," Tony conceded.

"But this is all based on Clint's word, right?" Peter chimed in, sitting on a tree trunk. "I mean, no offense, but he was under mind control. Loki could have told him to say all this stuff, or given him false information on purpose."

"You've been watching way too many movies, kid. Mind control is iffy at best, even with that weird staff Loki used. Anyways, any control Loki had on Clint wore off when Barnes knocked him over the head."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Bucky scowled, his dismantled gun momentarily forgotten.

Steve sighed. He was feeling restless, knowing Loki was out there thinking they were out of commission, but they needed a plan. Only, it was really hard to plan a battle strategy when all of their resources were essentially eliminated. If the Helicarrier crash hadn't destroyed every bit of useful machinery they had, the truly epic battle between Thor and Hulk had taken care of it. Steve felt slightly guilty, like he should go help Thor, but he also didn't think he'd survive the experience.

Plus, the Avengers weren't exactly the team they had been. Most of them hadn't worked together in nearly two years. Half of them were still mad at Tony for his drunken rant and seemed reluctant to work with him. Bucky and Wanda seemed unsure if Clint was actually free of mind control. Tony desperately didn't want Peter to be there or to be involved in any plans. Nat and Pietro were concerned about the head injury Wanda had just suffered and whether she should sit this battle out.

And Steve was feeling all of those things at once.

"Everyone focus," the soldier ordered, taking charge. They were assembled in a loose circle in a wooded clearing out of hearing range of Hill's agents. "I know we all have personal issues that we need to work out, but that's going to have to wait. Loki is our priority right now. We know he's going to make a wormhole, but we don't know where."

"Why hasn't he already made one?" Nat asked. Steve could practically see the gears in her head turning as she tried to get into Loki's head, tried to unravel his plot. "He's had the Tesseract for a few days. Why wait for us to assemble a force to go against him?"

"He needed something," Clint said suddenly, eyes slightly unfocused. "There was something he made me retrieve from that gala in Germany. Another one of his followers was tasked with bringing it back to his base. Some sort of part for a device he was making."

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. And I doubt he'd tell his minions to fire the wormhole up without him present. But I'm assuming he went back to his base after blowing us out of the sky, so whatever contraption he needed to make is probably already done and in his possession. No stopping that."

"But where is he going to make the wormhole?" Peter pondered. "Clint, do you remember anything else? Did he mention needing any more resources, or going to a particular area?"

"Energy. He said he needed a lot of energy."

Tony began pacing. Steve watched him intently. He'd lived with Tony long enough to know when he was close to connecting the dots to something big.

The billionaire began mumbling to himself. "Energy. The Tesseract is already an immense energy source, but the contraption might need even more. Energy isn't hard to get, not if you know where to look. So where would he go? He's dramatic, he likes an audience, so he won't go to some wind farm. No, he wants roses, he wants a parade, he wants a monument in the sky with his name on it—" Tony froze.

Peter dropped to the ground. "Tony, did you manage to make Stark Tower completely self-sufficient on renewable energy like you were telling me about?"

"It went fully sustainable last week."

Steve stood and slung his shield onto his back. "Then we need a way to get to New York. Fast."

"What about Bruce?" Nat asked.

They all turned towards the Helicarrier as lightning rained down to the earth. "Thor and Bruce are just going to have to catch up once they're done here."

* * *

"Tony, I'm not sure how much longer your suit is going to hold up," Peter said, playing with a wrench in his hand.

"I just need it to get me to my penthouse. Then I can call a new suit and beat Loki's scrawny ass. Also, we don't have time to find a new wrench so you better not crush that."

The boy grinned. "I haven't crushed a wrench in a while. That would be hard to explain to my friends in class who don't know about my powers. I've gotten better about controlling my strength."

Tony raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. A dull ache was building in his chest, and he knew it wasn't coming from the arc reactor. Peter had gone and grown up on him while he was away at his genius school and Tony was busy obsessing over reclaiming Stark Industries. The little boy he knew was mature now. He moved more confidently, seemed more sure of his movements. He used to have to concentrate so he wouldn't break everything he held, but now he was the one reassuring Tony that he knew what he was doing. It was a sharp reminder of how much life he had been missing out on, had neglected while he rose to the top of the business world.

"Good. Then get busy. Once we're done with my suit, I need to work on yours a bit. You're not as small as when I made that suit. I think there are a few tricks that I can unlock to help you out."

A hesitant small crossed Peter's lips. "You mean you're going to let me come with you to fight Loki?"

"No. Absolutely not. But if the S.H.I.E.L.D. craft that is coming to bring you back to Wakanda crashes into the Atlantic I want to make sure you survive the experience. Then once this mess with Loki is done I'll swing by to pick it up."

"Tony!"

"No, no complaining! You're twelve, Peter. You shouldn't even be here."

"Fury said I could help."

"And believe me, I'll be having a chat with him if we all survive this, but that doesn't change the fact that you are going back to Wakanda as soon as I can shove you on a Quinjet."

"That's not fair!"

"What's not fair?" Steve interrupted, approaching the two heroes as he emerged from the woods. He raised and eyebrow as he noted how close the two of them were standing, glaring angrily at each other. "Something going on I should know about?"

Tony turned his glare on the super soldier. "Nothing happening here, Cap. Go make-out with Barnes or something."

Peter shoved past Tony to look at Steve with pleading eyes. "Tony's trying to keep me from helping you guys out, he wants to send me back to Wakanda."

"I don't _want_ to do anything. I _am_ sending you back to school, because you're a kid."

The boy whirled on Tony and hissed, "I'm just as old as Nat was when she became an Avenger. And Wanda and Pietro. Nearly as old as _you_ were when you made your first Iron Man suit!"

"Because I nearly died, Peter!" Tony yelled. "I did it to protect myself, and I'm not going to let yourself get killed just so you can play superhero!"

"Tony!" Steve snapped, stepping between the two of them. "Cut it out! Both of you." He sighed, tipping his head back. "I hate that I'm saying this, but we need Peter. We need all the help we can get to stop Loki. He's trying to take over the earth, and we can't allow that. Whatever it takes."

"Yes!" Peter yelled triumphantly. Tony looked murderous, but then he set his jaw. Steve took that as acceptance, but not approval.

"There are going to be rules," Steve warned the kid, who nodded enthusiastically. "If you get hurt, you leave the fight immediately. You do not engage Loki for any reason. You follow any order Tony, Bucky, or I give you _without question or hesitation._ And you have to be in eyesight of a team member at all times, no exceptions. Am I understood?"

"Yes. One hundred percent."

Steve nodded sharply. "Good. Finish repairs. We leave in an hour."

The super soldier strode off, back to the main group of Avengers. They were all suiting up, gathering supplies, and working out the details of the plan. Tony and Peter had been trusted with repairs as the resident scientists/engineers, but Peter turned back to Tony with a sinking feeling that he was about to be sent away. He didn't want to worry Tony, but he couldn't sit out of this fight. He needed to be there, to protect his friends, his family, Tony. He wouldn't apologize for that.

"What are you waiting for?" Tony finally said after a tense moment of staring. "If you're coming, we're going to need to make even more upgrades to your suit."

"Of course," Peter agreed, springing into action. A huge weight seemed to lift off his chest with Tony's acquiescence.

The billionaire picked up his helmet and inspected it. It had sustained some heavy gashes in the crash, but was still fully functional. They worked in silence for a few minutes, before Tony sighed heavily and turned to Peter.

"I'm not happy about this. I'm not going to lie to you. But…," he tapped his fingers impatiently, "I trust Rogers. But I need you to promise me something, kid."

"...What?" he asked cautiously.

"If everything goes to shit, save yourself."

Tony's dark eyes bored into him. Peter's brow furrowed. "Tony, I can't just leave you—"

"Peter, if everything goes to shit you save yourself, and then save Pepper if you can. Promise me."

"...I promise."

* * *

Thor watched as a small figure blasted off, followed by one of the strange Midgardian crafts he had been brought to the Helicarrier in. What had the Captain called it? A Quin... something. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that those two crafts taking off meant that the Captain and his warriors had found Loki. That was the only explanation. The god gave a satisfied grunt. He would only need to follow that craft to go find his brother and put a stop to all this madness.

But he had one thing to do first. Thor turned his head down to the scrawny human who was laying buck-naked in the rubble of what had been the Helicarrier.

It had been quite a sight to see the mighty green beast shrink down to a young human male after Thor had pummeled him unconscious. The god would even admit that that had been one of the hardest battles he had partook in. The beast called Hulk was seemingly invulnerable, and they had fought for a good hour before Thor had prevailed with a particularly strong lightning strike. Now the small human rested in his place. Thor would think him dead if not for the steady rise and fall of his small chest.

The Captain would want the help of both himself and the Hulk, Thor was sure. It would be more prudent to go together. Now he just had to wait for the boy to regain consciousness. It was a dull task, but it did allow him time to heal and rest before heading off to battle again.

"Uhhh…" the human groaned, stirring weakly. "Whaa…?"

"Careful. I don't know how hard I hit you," Thor warned as the human started pulling himself upright.

The human squinted at him. "Thor? What happened? Where are we?"

"We are in the Helicarrier." _Well, it used to be anyways,_ Thor thought. "You turned into a mighty beast and we fought. I rendered you unconscious. I have been waiting for you to wake up so that we might join your team in battle against my brother."

"I turned into the Hulk?!"

"Indeed. Looking at your pathetic form, I never would have guessed what a formidable enemy you could make," Thor replied with innocent incredulity. The human—was his name Banner? Was that what the Captain called him?—Banner's eyes widened and he suddenly covered his nether-regions with his hands.

"I'm naked. Great. Uh, you wouldn't happen to have any clothes laying around, would you?"

Thor shrugged. "You are impervious in battle. Why do you need clothes?"

"Because I can't just go around naked!"

Thor considered, then shrugged off his cape and tossed it towards Banner. "There. Now, are you well enough to go join your fellow warriors in battle?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no no no. I'm not doing that again. I'll stay here, but you go right ahead. Loki is your brother, its family business, I'll just stay out of it."

"What? We need your help! My brother wouldn't stand a chance against you, and your teammates are relying on you!"

"No, no, no. I can't control the Hulk, he's crazy, I can't risk hurting any of them. I can't. It's safer if I stay here."

Thor stood, determination and lightning crackling in his eyes. "No. You are coming. Your friends need you, Earth needs you. You can control the Hulk. I know you can. Now, am I going to have to drag you, or are you coming willingly?"


	26. Chapter 26

Tony gritted his teeth as his repulsors stuttered and he dropped a few feet before they kicked back in. His armor had suffered worse damage in the Helicarrier crash than he had initially thought. It definitely wouldn't last through another fight, but he could see Stark Tower rising above the New York skyline, which meant he'd almost made it.

"Hang in there, baby," he murmured to his armor as he dropped down onto the balcony of the penthouse suite. His armor began removing itself from him, creaking and popping alarmingly as it was pulled off. The sounds made him want to wince, but then he saw that someone was already waiting inside, golden scepter in hand. Loki's unnervingly pale eyes tracked him as he stepped free of his armor and strode into the penthouse.

"Tony Stark," the god said in greeting. "Richest man in the world. And S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lapdog."

"I see you let yourself in," he said, brushing off the taunts, sauntering across the room to the bar. "I'm making myself a drink. Want any?" He flicked his eyes over Loki. "On second thought, never mind. I don't want to get in trouble for serving minors."

"You dare insult me!"

"Relax, Rock of Ages. I just came for a drink." He lifted a fancy decanter and raised it in mock salute before pouring himself a glass. As he set it down, he grabbed two bracelets and slipped them onto his wrists. "Oh, and to give you a warning."

Loki raised his eyebrows, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips. "You think you are in any position to give me a warning, mortal? I have the Tesseract. I have an army of Midgardians at my beck and call. I sent your flying warship toppling out of the sky. S.H.I.E.L.D. is crippled, and you can not stand against my on your own."

"No, not alone." He took a sip from his glass and eyed the god with unrestrained anger. "But you see, you didn't just piss me off. You pissed off all my friends. Two assassins, two super soldiers, your brother who's the god of thunder, an assortment of genetically enhanced people, and a giant green rage monster. And they're all coming for you."

"You don't frighten me. What hope does a motley group of children have of stopping what is already coming? I've already won and you don't even know it."

"Maybe. But that won't stop us, even if we lose. Because if we can't save the world, then you'll be damned well sure that we'll avenge it."

Loki's let out a battle cry and blasted the bar with his scepter. Tony sprinted for the balcony, covering his head as debris showered down from Loki's erratic shots. Before the god could catch up, Tony flung himself off the balcony and began to free fall towards the pavement far below. Shit.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.!" Tony yelled. A light lit up on each of the bracelets he'd slipped on in the apartment and the sound of a rocket cut through the air. He looked up to see pieces of the Iron Man suit speeding towards him. He spread his arms and legs and the suit began to assemble around him in midair. The ground rapidly filled his vision, until the mask snapped over his face and his rocket boosters kicked into overdrive, shooting him into the sky.

He flew towards where he knew Cap was waiting with the rest of the team. Including Peter, who he still wished had stayed behind. Too late to change that now, though.

"Good, you're back," Cap said as he landed and pulled off his helmet.

"Any chance Loki is tied up in your penthouse and we can all call it a day?" Clint asked.

"Sorry, Katniss, even I'm not that good." Tony turned back to Cap. "Do we have a plan yet?"

"Yeah. It seems like the Tesseract is on the roof and is being used to open up some kind of portal. We'll need to take that down, and fast. One team can do that, while the other team apprehends Loki for good, this time," Cap explained, his gaze steady as he looked at them.

Tony knew that Cap was seeing fighters, trained, skilled soldiers to lead into combat. Tony envied him his ability to completely switch mentalities when needed. All Tony saw was a group of kids with shitty childhoods who couldn't back away from a fight, himself included. His family, however weird and messed-up it was.

He couldn't let Loki hurt another one of them.

A sharp boom blasted through the air and the Avengers all turned to see a beam shooting into the sky from the roof of Stark Tower. It cleaved a portal in the heavens, tearing apart the sky to reveal space, out of which poured hordes of aliens on small space ships.

"Cap, I think we need a new plan," Tony said, his helmet snapping back into place as he prepared to blast off. His freak out over an alien invasion would have to wait. Already, their crafts were descending upon the skyscrapers and firing.

And of course S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't around to give an evacuation order or even to help fight.

"We need to keep this contained," Cap said, reacting to the situation impressively fast. "Quicksilver, Spider-Man, and Scarlet Witch, you're on perimeter and evac. We need those buildings cleared and we need to keep this within a few blocks. Stay in contact."

"On it, Cap," Peter promised, his mask descending on his face. He shot a webline and swung away while Pietro scooped up his sister and disappeared. Tony's stomach rolled as he watched Peter leave, but he knew it was for the best. The three of them could take care of each other, and as the least experienced in the field needed to be kept from the bulk of the fighting.

"Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Winter Soldier, you've got the sky. Shoot 'em down before they touch ground."

Bucky grabbed Steve's arm and snarled, "I am not leaving you, you goddamn punk."

"Bucky—" he tried to argue.

"No."

"Its fine, Cap," Tony said, not willing to waste another moment fighting. "I already called in some back-up."

Steve nodded, trusting in him. Tony really hoped he would earn that trust. "Okay. Widow, Soldier, and I will be on the ground. If anyone gets a shot at Loki, or a chance to shut down the portal, take it."

Another boom and Tony worried that another portal had been opened, but instead lightning struck the ground yards from them, setting off multiple alarms in his suit. As it faded, Thor, bloody but upright, a murderous gleam in his eyes, and Bruce, timid and wearing only pants, appeared. The billionaire could have wept to see them, but there wasn't time.

"Perhaps we can help," the god suggested, flipping his hammer. "It's time I dealt with my brother. This is madness, to call the hordes of the Chitauri to this innocent city."

"Good to see you, big guy," Tony said sincerely, his eyes on Bruce. He was glad to see his best science bro was injured, even after the beating Thor had given the Hulk.

"Glad you could make it," Steve told Thor, clasping hands. "We need all the help we can get."

Clint turned to Tony, snapping his bow into shape. "Give me a lift?"

"Clench up, Legolas." Tony grabbed Clint by the back of his neck and then blasted off, depositing the archer on a rooftop with a good vantage point.

Tony hung for a moment in the air. His screens were filled with dozens, hundreds of alien targets descending on the city, on the innocent people, on his friends, on his family. More than he could comprehend, and yet more kept falling out of the wormhole, including an enormous...whale? Space, alien, battle, whale? He wasn't even sure, but it plowed through a building, shredding it in half like it was paper. Shit. Wanda's red magic caught the building before it could smash onto the street.

"Pepper's going to kill me," Tony said to himself before blasting towards the whale, even though he doubted his firepower could even put a dent on it.

But he had to try.

* * *

"That doesn't look good," Bucky yelled over the sound of his blaster fire.

Steve threw his shield, knocking two aliens over, then peeked up at the enormous goliath heading right towards them, off of which even more aliens were hopping off. No, it looked really fucking bad.

"Don't worry, guys, I got this," Bruce said, an odd note of peace in the scientist's voice.

Natasha fired a few bullets, then whipped towards him. "Bruce, no offense, but we already have enough going on right now without a rematch with the Hulk."

"I know. I'm going to help."

Bruce turned and started walking towards the goliath. Steve swore, but there were too many aliens swarming towards him, Bucky, and Nat to stop Bruce. Then he watched in amazement as Bruce hunched, his pale frame trembling, his muscles spasming and contracting, until his screams turned into a roar and the Hulk took his place.

"I thought he couldn't control the transformation!" Bucky yelled.

"Guess he figured it out!" Steve yelled back, ducking under a bullet and retrieving his shield.

The three of them stumbled as the Hulk literally _punched_ the Goliath so hard it fell from the sky and crashed to the ground, the sound of crumbling concrete and rending metal grating on Steve's ears. The Hulk gave a roar and jumped halfway up a skyscraper. He crashed aliens in his fist and beat up goliaths until he was out of view.

"Avengers, head's up: Hulk is on the board, but he seems friendly. Give him as much space as you can, just to be safe," Steve said into his earpiece.

"I knew Brucie could do it," Tony remarked on the comm. "By the way, the skies are getting real crowded. Someone needs to hurry up and shut the portal!"

"I could swing up there," Peter offered. "I know I could figure out how to disarm it safely."

"No," Steve said instantly, beating out even Tony. "Stay on evac. No arguments."

Peter, thankfully, fell silent. As strong and smart as the kid was, he didn't have any fighting experience. There was no way Steve was going to put him in Loki's path, not when the maniac wouldn't hesitate to hurt a child.

"I'll go," Nat said, meeting Steve's eyes. He frowned. "Thor's distracting Loki. I can get to the roof and shut it down. Worse comes to worse, I'll call in Stark."

"Hey!" Tony complained.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked, laying down cover fire.

"Positive." Her eyes flicked to the alien crafts flying over head. "But I'm going to need a boost."

Steve read the resolve and confidence in her eyes. He trusted her to get the job done.

"Get ready," he told her, kneeling and raising his shield over himself. She nodded, and backed up. "Now!"

She ran forward, jumping onto his shield. He shoved up, sending her into the air in time to slam into one of the crafts. Nat knocked the alien off it and took control, redirecting it to Stark Tower and the beacon.

"Just us now," Bucky remarked, dropping his empty gun and picking one up from an alien corpse.

"Thor and Nat are going to end this. The rest of us just need to protect however many people we can and give them time."

The assassin grinned, his hair ruffled and his clothes covered in ash and blood. One sleeve was torn, exposing his metal arm.

"Then let's buy them time."

* * *

Peter shot out a web line and grunted as he stopped the column from falling onto the group of people huddled on the ground, seeking shelter from the invasion. Muscles straining, he tilted the beam away from them and set it down, not gently, but no one was crushed. He didn't even wait to catch his breath before leaping out the window and resuming making a web between buildings, creating a perimeter as best he could.

He'd been moving non-stop, containing the aliens to about eight blocks with his webs. Most of them didn't bother soar over it, whether because they were uninterested or too dumb to do so, Peter wasn't sure, but he was grateful for it. As grateful as he could be in his current situation.

New York, his childhood home, had become a war zone, with entirely too many civilians caught in the midst.

He'd only caught strains of what his family was doing. Occasionally he saw the blur of Pietro running, Wanda's red magic, or Tony blowing things up in the sky. The Hulk could be heard roaring from blocks away, but Peter hadn't run into him. Over the comms, he heard Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Nat planning and updating each other, but he often missed whole conversations as he was busy dodging alien blasts or rescuing people from collapsing buildings.

Exhaustion was setting in quick, but he kept pushing through. He had to. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't coming and the NYPD was not equipped for this scenario. Even federal forces wouldn't do much good right now.

Everything fell on an assorted group of super powered, spandex wearing teenagers and young adults.

Oh god.

"Careful!" Peter shouted, shooting out a web to stop debris from falling onto a family hiding behind a car. "Get inside!"

He wished he could see them to safety, but there were too many people who needed his help still. As he was swinging he saw an alien ship slam into a building, smoke billowing into the sky. He cursed and moved towards it.

"I need some help!" he said into his comm. "Anyone nearby?!"

A fire was spreading, but he was moving too slowly, having to dodge aliens and debris and he moved. The scanners on his mask showed people still inside the burning building.

"Need some help, kid?"

Peter nearly missed the next swing as something rocketed by him in gleaming silver armor. He laughed for the first time that day and yelled, "Rhodey!"

"Hey, Pete. Tony called me in. Sam's here, too, he went to help Cap and Bucky," the soldier replied in his mechanized voice, heading right for the burning building. His repulsors tore through aliens and their ships like paper, his armor shocking anything that got close enough to touch him.

"We need to get them out!" He didn't have time for any more of a reunion.

"On it. By the way, I like the suit."

* * *

Thor soared through the air, landing with a crack of thunder on the balcony of Stark Tower. He strode forward, hammer in hand. He could see Loki within, staring at the madness he had unleashed upon New York City with pale blue eyes. There was something wrong with his brother's gaze. Loki had always been a trickster, usually at Thor's expense, but he had always had his wits about him. No longer. And Thor couldn't afford to go easy on his brother, not this time.

"Loki, stop this now," he commanded, coming to a stop twenty feet behind the Jotun, his hammer at the ready.

"Its beautiful, isn't it?" he breathed out, not turning. "All this chaos. Come, Thor, you are a warrior. Don't you appreciate the glory of battle?"

"This is no battle. This is slaughter. The people of Earth have done nothing to deserve this, nor are they prepared to thwart an invasion. There is no glory here."

Loki turned and Thor's breath hitched. Loki was just a boy, younger than himself even, and that was a face he had loved, raised since he was a babe. He didn't want to fight, maybe for the first time in his life, and of course he had choice. Not between millions of lives or his brother's.

"Are you going to try to stop me, Thor?"

"Brother, I will do more than _try._ You never have been able to beat me."

With a savage cry, Loki thrust his spear forward, sending a bolt of energy towards Thor, who dodged easily. With a grimace, he spun his hammer, but Loki blasted it, preventing him from flying forward. Of course he knew all of Thor's tricks and favorite moves. He would just have to get creative.

"Ha!" Thor raised his hammer and brought it down on the floor. The marble cracked, spreading from his feet all the way to Loki. With a groan, the marble gave out and the two gods tumbled down a story, chunks of rock landing among them. Thor rolled in time to avoid getting his head smashed in, but his cape got caught. He tugged at it until it tore free. Frigga was going to be upset with him, but that would have to wait. He lept up and over to Loki.

His brother had not been as lucky. His scepter had rolled away, out of reach, but Thor kicked it even further for good measure. Blood coated the temple of Loki's pale face, no doubt from the debris, and a rather large block was crushing his leg. An Asgardian could typically shake those things off, but Loki had always been small and frail. Thor only now realized that was because Loki wasn't an Asgardian at all, but a Frost Giant, and a runt at that.

Thor's instincts took over and he hurried to his brother's side, brushing away the blood. The cut wasn't too bad. He breathed a sigh of relief, even given their situation. Loki's eyes snapped open and Thor settled into a crouch, ready to pounce, but he paused. The ice blue haze that had been clouding his eyes were gone and his skin had gone pale.

"Thor," Loki gasped, meeting his eyes with a wild desperation. "I think I messed up."

"What trick is this?" Thor demanded, though he wasn't so sure that it was a trick. He had never seen his brother look this worried, this fearful.

"No trick, brother, I promise. I didn't mean to do any of this, I swear."

"Stop lying, Loki! This is all your doing, I saw you do it!"

He shook his head, greasy black locks matted with blood hitting his face. "No, no, I did it, but I didn't want to. It wasn't me in control, he made me do it—"

Thor gripped his shoulders tightly, trying to break through his panic. "Who? Brother, who made you do this? How?"

"The scepter. The stone within the scepter. He used it to control me, like how I used it to control that S.H.I.E.L.D. brat."

" _Who?!"_ Thor was livid. He could tell Loki was telling the truth for once, and it made his blood boil. Who would dare manipulate a Prince of Asgard, the God of Lies? Thor would kill him himself.

"His name is Thanos."

* * *

"Alright boys, I'm on the roof. I can shut it down," Nat reported over the comm. Tony twisted in the air, shooting down a seemingly endless tide of aliens. They just kept coming out of the portal. He wasn't sure how much longer they could keep this up, but he had to.

"And I have Loki," Thor chimed in.

"Good work, team. Nat, do it! We need to close the portal!" Steve commanded.

"Sir, we have an incoming missile," J.A.R.V.I.S. reported.

Tony swore, swerving to avoid a building. His AI pulled up footage of a nuclear warhead soaring over the Atlantic. He calculated the trajectory to drop it right in the center of New York City. Well, that explained why there weren't any federal troops streaming in. Apparently the government decided they'd rather nuke millions of people rather than risk a full on invasion. Shit.

He did some fast math in his head and swore as he came to a conclusion. "Belay that order, Cap! We have an incoming nuke!"

"What?!" Rhodey exclaimed.

He ignored his friend. "Don't close the portal!"

"Tony, don't even think about it!" Cap shouted.

It was too late. Tony peeled off from the thick of the fight, going as fast as was possible, aimed right at the nuke. "No choice, Cap! We can't let the nuke hit the city, and the portal is a convenient drop point. We don't have a lot of options!"

"Iron Man, disengage!" Steve snapped, but it didn't have his full force behind it. That wasn't the voice of Captain America, commanding officer. That was Steve Rogers, terrified for his friend.

"You don't have a big window, Tony," Nat warned. "I need to shut it down."

Tony slammed into the missile, screaming with pain as he redirected it skyward. The strain was enormous and for a second he thought his suit might not be up to the task before stabilizing.

"I understand," he grunted. "Do what you have to do, Nat."

" _Don't you dare,"_ Rhodey told Natasha, but Tony knew she would follow through. He trusted her to do that.

"Sir? Would you like me to call Mr. Parker?" J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, almost hesitant. Like he was scared to. Tony swallowed and nodded. On his display, next to the gaping portal overhead appeared a picture of Peter.

"Tony, what's going on? What are you doing?" Peter asked frantically as soon as the connection established. Tony could have cried upon hearing his voice, but there wasn't time. There wasn't nearly enough time, and he had already wasted so much of it.

"Hey, Pete, it's alright. It's all almost over," he promised.

"No, Tony, drop off, there's still time—"

"Kid, do the math," he cut off. "You know there's not." Peter's silence was answer enough. "Okay, Peter, I need you to do something for me. I need you to take care of Pepper, alright? I've put her, and you, and everyone, through plenty of shit. She doesn't need to suffer because of me anymore, alright? Promise me."

"Tony, please, don't…"

"Promise me, kid."

"I promise."

Tony swallowed, wishing he had enough time to hear Pepper's voice, but the portal was growing closer and closer. He could feel it tugging at him, pulling him away from Earth.

"I'm holding you to that. Peter. I love you."

He burst through the portal and the line flashed red as the connection was lost. His suit lost function a second later, the displays and motors stopping. He was trapped in an iron coffin, floating in space. He could feel the cold creeping in, but all he saw through the eye slits was infinite darkness. Then the nuke hit something and lit up the space.

Tony would have thrown up if there were anything in his stomach.

Hundreds of ships, of those alien whales and even larger crafts blew up before his eyes. They were all he could see. At least ten times over how many would be necessary to raze Earth to the ground, to destroy everyone and everything he knew.

Then he began to fall.

* * *

Steve watched as Tony and the nuke disappeared, punching through the portal. He waited, straining to pick out a red and gold figure, but there was nothing to see. Explosions began to rock the portal and he knew that if nothing else, Tony had succeeded. And that if they didn't close they portal then all of that debris would come raining down on Earth.

He raised his hand to his comm. "Do it, Nat."

Sam whirled around, staring at him in shock. "Cap?"

"Steve, Tony's still in there," Bucky objected, standing next to Sam.

He didn't reply. "Done," Natasha reported. He watched as the dark blue portal shrunk, the explosions growing closer and closer. His heart was beating fast. Just before it winked out of existence entirely a small form fell out and he almost collapsed in relief.

"Tony, thank God!" he exclaimed.

No reply came. His worry returned, then morphed into horror. Tony wasn't flying. He was falling.

"Shit. His suit's dead!" Rhodey yelled over the comms, along with the sound of rocketing, but Steve knew he was too far away. Tony was reaching terminal velocity.

"Is he—?" Wanda began to ask, then cut off.

"Tony!" Peter yelled, the _thwip_ of his webs in the background.

"Kid, stay clear!" Bucky ordered. If Peter tried to catch him at that velocity both of them would be screwed. Steve had rarely felt this helpless.

A mighty roar split the air. The Hulk leapt from a block away and intercepted Tony like he was football, then dropped roughly to the ground, tearing up buildings as he went. He landed hard enough to shake the ground feet from Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Pietro, carrying Wanda, appeared a moment later.

Hulk dropped Tony on the ground and Steve shoved forward, ripping off Tony's visor. There were multiple cuts on his face and his eyes were closed. Steve couldn't hear his breath.

"Tony, no, wake up," Steve ordered, preparing to rip off his armor to attempt CPR.

The Hulk roared and Steve flinched back. Tony's eyes flew open and he gasped in breath, his irises flickering between all the people hovering over him before settling on Steve's dopey grin.

"Please tell me nobody kissed me," he said.

"Not today," Steve promised.

Tony slumped. "Good. I'm guessing all the aliens are taken care of too? They had better be since you're all just standing around."

"Tony!" Peter yelled, dropping onto the pavement, web strands swaying in the wind. The city was eerily silent with all the aliens having dropped dead when the portal closed. Peter ran over, his armor tattered and his mask gone. He dropped down next to Tony.

"Hey, kid. Miss me? _Oof,"_ he grunted as Peter threw his arms around him, suit and all. "Alright. I'd hug you back but I can't actually move."

Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve, and he leaned into the comfort. Everyone else was similarly relaxing, exhaustion and pain catching up with them. Wanda and Pietro were sitting down, slumped against each other. Sam and Rhodey were talking on comms with Nat, Clint, and Thor, but it sounded like they were all okay.

Peter rocked back. "Right. Sorry."

"No, it's good. Hey, I think we should all get some dinner. How about shawarma? Shawarma good with everyone?"

* * *

 **Epilogue**

"So what happens now?" Pepper asked, her head on Tony's shoulder.

"About what?" he asked, running his hands through her hair. He couldn't stop marveling at the softness or the different shades in her long locks. Something so simple that he had never appreciated enough. That would never be a problem again.

"Everything! Aliens just invaded the Earth!"

"And were successfully turned away by Iron Man and friends," he reminded her. Reminded himself. Both. "I don't know all the logistics, but Fury is handling it. Stark Industries, is, of course, going to help with the clean up. The government has ever so generously agreed to allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to remain in control of any left behind alien artifacts after their plan to blow up New York didn't work out. They're going to be sucking up to Fury for a long time to make up for that brilliant stunt."

She rubbed a hand over his chest consolingly. He'd had a nightmare about the portal and the nuke and the armada in space every night since the battle, ones Pepper had calmed him down after. He hadn't described his nightmares to her yet, but she knew. She always knew.

"That's good. But what you?"

"What about me?"

"Tony!" she complained and he grinned, unable to be annoyed right now.

"Fine. Well, I'm probably going to be busy for a while. Aliens are a rather big deal, and I don't want to be caught off guard ever again. I need to prepare for this happening again."

She sat up, her brow furrowed. "Do you think it will?"

He wished he could tell her anything but what he knew to be true. "I really, really hope not, but yeah. I think it will." He was certain, even if he didn't know how or when it would be. "But next time I'll be ready. See, I put together a team."

A light entered her eyes. "A team? Really?"

He nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yep. A group of remarkable people working together to protect the world. What do you think?"

"Sounds a bit cliched."

He snorted, pulling her back to him. "Smart ass."

"Are you serious? Are you really getting the Avengers back together?"

"Already did. Sat down with everyone and we all agreed that we work better together. I was thinking that we could set up headquarters here in New York, at Stark Tower, to be re-christened Avengers Tower, this time. So we can all keep doing our jobs without living in the middle of nowhere. But, this all depends on one thing," he added, his brown doe eyes boring into her.

Pepper frowned. "What?"

He slid off the bench and dropped to a knee before her. He then pulled a small, velvet box out of his pocket and she gasped, hands moving to her mouth. He held it up, flicking it open. A gold ring set to mimic the shape of an arc reactor was nestled inside.

"Well, I can't move in a bunch of super soldiers and assassins without my fiancee's permission," he said glibly, but she could see the gentle tremor making his hand shake. He was nervous. "That is, if you would do me the honor of marrying me, Pepper Potts?"

"Yes," she said, a huge smile stealing across her face.

The expression of shock on his face made her laugh. "You—"

"Yes," she repeated, leaning down to kiss him. "This is the part where you put the ring on me."

"R-right." He fumbled pulling it out. She held out her hand and he slid it on, then kissed her hand. He seemed to get some of his wits about him because he smiled and kissed her again. "I have another engagement gift for you."

"What?" she teased. "The ring wasn't enough?"

"Peter is going to spend the rest of the semester at his school in Wakanda, but come fall, Spider-kid is going to start attending classes at Empire State University, full ride. Which means he's moving back to New York full time. We can get the whole family back together. I think it's been long enough."

She kissed him breathless, her hands cupping his face. "That is the best present you could have gotten me."

"Everything isn't going to be like it was," he warned her. "Steve, Bucky, Sam, Rhodey, Clint, and Natasha will be doubling as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents again, so they'll be in and out. Wanda and Pietro still need to finish high school, and Peter will be in school too. Thor might even be dropping in from time to time."

"What did happen to Thor?"

He shrugged. "He took the Tesseract, the scepter, and his brother and went back to Asgard with the promise to stay in touch. Apparently Loki was mind controlled into the attack. I think Thor plans on going after the true mastermind. Cap promised that if he needed back-up the Avengers would help."

"Wow. Just...wow."

"Tell me about it. Now I need to make a suit that works in space." He stood up and smiled at her. "But that can wait. How about I take you somewhere really fancy to celebrate our engagement?"

"Let's stay in," she suggested, looping her arms around his neck. "Since the Tower is going to get crowded soon, we should probably enjoy this alone time while it lasts."

"God, I can't wait to marry you."

* * *

 **The End!**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who read this (especially to everyone who waited during my hiatus). I'm really happy that I was able to finish this story, and as much as I loved writing it, there will not be a sequel. I'm already working on other projects, so keep an eye out for those, and if you haven't already, check out my other stories on here. Please favorite and review, and finally, thank you to Beauty In Her Darkness for being my beta. Go read her stuff too!**

 **-Lady of Lorule**


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